


Even Emrys Has Limits

by Trexi



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Era, Episode: s05e09 With All My Heart, Gen, Magic Reveal, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-06-16 23:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 25,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15447792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trexi/pseuds/Trexi
Summary: Merlin doesn’t get the chance as the Dolma to remind Arthur about his missing servant. He’s a little busy passing out from exhaustion and being abandoned by his best friend. (Multi-POV)





	1. Exhaustion

**MERLIN**

I go to call out, to ask Arthur if he’s forgetting something, but I can’t find the energy. What the…? My legs give out and I crash into the ground. Arthur and Gwen don’t seem to notice. Mordred glances back.

_“Emrys?”_

Of course he knew who I was. _“I think summoning the White Goddess caught up with me.”_

_“I’ll get Arthur to stop.”_

_“No, he’ll notice I’m missing. He’s not that thick. Give it a few minutes and he’ll realise.”_

_“I could just tell him.”_

_“He’ll remember.”_

_“I’m not leaving you here, Emrys. I dealt with Morgana, but she’s still close. In your current state, you wouldn’t be able to fight her off.”_

_“It’s fine. Arthur will remember. I think … I think I’m just going to take a little nap. Look after him until you all come back.”_

_“Of course. I’m sure we’ll be back before sundown.”_

I go to laugh, but just slide against the ground more. _“He’ll remember before then. Arthur will come back for me. He… He’ll remem-.”_

_“EMRYS!”_

*

Gods, this headache is worse than that time Arthur threw his helmet at me when I wasn’t paying attention and knocked me out cold. I don’t think I’ve seen him look so apologetic before. I should remind him of it. The prat could use a good laugh after this scare with Gwen. Wait a moment. I open my eyes and flinch against the sun overhead. I could’ve sworn that was lower before… Before, when I passed out. Have I really been asleep for a day? Arthur isn’t going to let me live this one down.

Where is the prat anyway? I’m still at the Cauldron of Arianrhod. Where _is_ he?

“Arthur?” I shout. “You can come out now. Ha, ha, hide from the over-sleeper, except it wasn’t really sleeping. I only passed out because you decided to make me carry more than I could handle.” I pause. There’s no response. “Okay, this isn’t funny anymore. Arthur? Gwen? Mordred?”

This is getting ridiculous.

_“Mordred, please tell me Arthur put you up to this… Mordred?”_

No. Gods, no. He didn’t … he didn’t remember. Why didn’t he remember? Did something happen? Has something happened to them? Did Morgana find them? Or bandits? I’ve got to make sure they’re okay. They might be in danger. I’ve got to.

I stand up and instantly fall back down. Right, magical exhaustion. That’s a new one. But Arthur and Gwen could be in danger. Mordred might not have been able to protect them. Or maybe he _chose_ not to. No, he seems pretty loyal to Arthur, for now at least. I’ve got to push through this pesky light-headedness. Surely there’s something I can take for minor exhaustion. If I could just crawl my way over to my medical kit…

Oh, you have to be kidding me. Arthur took my stuff, but couldn’t manage to take me? No, he hasn’t forgotten me. That’d be ridiculous. Something must have happened. I’ll just haul myself onto this rock and force myself onto my feet. Maybe I can find a stick to help me walk with. I’d try to conjure one if I didn’t think doing so would put me back into the ground again. Look at me, Emrys, the greatest sorcerer to ever live, can’t even manage a simple bit of magic after summoning the occasional goddess while holding an aging spell.

Arthur better give me a day off when I find him.

*

Surely, I missed them. I mean, they took my bloody horse, so I had to _borrow_ one from a bandit stupid enough to attack me. Thank you, magic, for coming back at an opportune moment. I still feel like I’m going to pass out at any second, but that’s more from worry because surely, I missed them. Surely, I made it all the way back to Camelot without seeing them because something has happened. Not because they made it here, and Arthur still didn’t manage to notice that I was missing. Surely, I missed them.

But no, when do I get what I want? King Arthur Pratdragon himself walks right past me, doesn’t even notice me (the ragged clothes, massive dark circles under my eyes, and unkept hair probably doesn’t help) and doesn’t look the slightest bit worried. This has to be an enchantment or some sort of drawn-out three-day-long nightmare, because surely, surely, he’s noticed I’m missing by now. I swallow back the urge to scream at him as he disappears from sight.

He forgot. He left me there. He hasn’t even noticed that I was gone.

After everything that I’ve done, everything I’ve sacrificed, everyone I’ve lost, all for him, and he can’t even notice when I go missing for four days. I almost killed myself with magic exhaustion bringing his wife back from Morgana’s control, but he doesn’t know that, he never will. That’s how this has always worked. I do everything, and even when he does know it, he forgets within a day. He forgets me. Over and over again, he forgets me. I bet I could’ve died after losing consciousness back there and he wouldn’t even care. He wouldn’t even notice.

Fine. Have fun dealing with your destiny, Arthur Pendragon, because I am done with you. You supercilious, arrogant, self-centred, magic-hating ass of a prat. Good luck holding your kingdom together without me.


	2. Desertion

**ARTHUR**

Something’s missing. I can’t quite put my finger on it. In all the joy of having Guinevere back, free from Morgana’s mind games, I’ve managed to lose something. I’ve still got my sword. I checked that my horse is in the stables yesterday. It’s just been too quiet over the past two days in Camelot, and the three travelling here from the Cauldron. I almost remembered it yesterday, like I had a flash in my mind of what it was, but then it faded again. I wonder if Merlin knows what I’ve lost.

Merlin!

That’s who I haven’t seen in the past two days. Where could he have been? I don’t remember where he went when we got back home. I was too focused on Guinevere. If I’m completely honest, I don’t really remember him on the journey back, but he had to be there. He always is. He’s probably off in the tavern or sleeping in or something ridiculous like that. I should check with Gaius. I’m sure he knows where my tardy manservant is hiding.

“Arthur, everything alright?”

I turn around. “Guinevere, I was just about to hunt down Merlin. Do you know where he went when we got back?”

“Got back?” She frowns. “Arthur, Merlin wasn’t with us at the Cauldron. It was just us and Mordred.”

“No, that Dolma was holding Merlin hostage to make sure we didn’t kill her. But Merlin was there. He must have come back with us. We didn’t just leave him or anything.”

Guinevere shakes her head. “I don’t remember Merlin being there at all.”

“You were still recovering after your ordeal. I’m sure he was there. I’ll speak to Gaius and if he doesn’t know then Sir Mordred might. He’ll confirm that Merlin came back with us.”

I try to ignore Guinevere’s look of disbelief and worry as I stride out of our chambers.

“I’ll check with the servants,” she calls, as I close the door behind me.

Merlin is probably just lying in bed, skipping out on work because he thinks he can play the helped-save-the-Queen card. That’s all. He came back with us. He must have. I wouldn’t have just left him there. I didn’t. I don’t remember him coming back with us, but I wasn’t exactly paying careful attention to my servant at all times, my friend. I didn’t leave my friend there. I didn’t.

I storm into Gaius’ chambers and look around for Merlin. Instead, I see Gaius hunched over at his table, his head in his hands. He’s probably exasperated by Merlin’s antics. Those slight trembles are from anger, not sadness. Certainly not the sheer worry that meets my eyes when he lifts his head up. He sees it’s me and sighs, looking back down, almost disappointed. It’s then that I notice the note bunched up on the table next to him.

Gaius follows my gaze and unfurls himself, looking infinitely older. “I was out in the lower town all day yesterday. When I came back, that was the only thing he left. I doubt he would’ve wanted you read it, but I won’t stop you, sire.”

I pick it up and read what is obviously Merlin’s handwriting, even though the words don’t make the slightest bit of sense.

‘ _Sorry Gaius, but I’ve had enough. Arthur left me, at the Cauldron, just walked away without the slightest hint that I was missing. Mordred noticed of course, but I didn’t let him tell Arthur. I was so sure that the prat would turn around, that he’d realise that I was right behind him on the verge of passing out from exhaustion, but he didn’t. I saw him today when I finally made it back to Camelot. He didn’t even notice me. He didn’t even look like he’d noticed I was gone. That was the last straw. I’m done with him, done with living in Camelot. I’ll find a way to send you a message whenever I settle down again. Who am I kidding? If Camelot isn’t my home, then I don’t have one._

_Sorry I couldn’t stay and say this in person. I don’t want to chance running into anyone and having to lie and smile and pretend everything’s okay. Because it’s not and it hasn’t been in a long time. You asked me recently what happened to the boy who walked into your chamber all those years ago and I lied, said he grew up. Truth is, I killed him, cut him out of me to protect Arthur. I’m done sacrificing myself for that man. I’ll keep protecting him, of course, but only for Camelot’s sake, for Albion’s sake. Maybe one day I’ll come back, but never to stay. I only got through Uther’s reign because I knew Arthur’s would be better. Guess I was wrong about that too.’_

I let the note fall to ground. “This has to be some sort of joke, some terrible joke or lie,” I say, my voice somehow steady. “He’s just hiding in his room, right? I didn’t leave him. I… He came back with us. I didn’t-.”

I storm up to Merlin’s door and brace my hand to open it.

“Sire, you don’t want to open that,” Gaius calls out.

I shake my head. “This is just some joke. He’s not gone. I didn’t leave him. Merlin’s not gone.”

Gaius looks like he wants to drag me away from the door, but he just sinks, utterly defeated. It’s because he doesn’t want to play along with Merlin’s games anymore. That’s why. Not because… No, he’s not gone. He can’t be. He’s not…

I open the door. No. I search around his room. No. I slam open his wardrobe. No. I throw his bed against the wall. NO! It’s bare. All of it. There’s nothing, no trace, no sign or anything to say that he ever lived here. All of his belongings, gone. There has to be some sort of mistake. Merlin wouldn’t just leave. He certainly wouldn’t without saying goodbye. Just like I wouldn’t leave him behind. I wouldn’t abandon him. Not Merlin. Never. I didn’t-. He didn’t-.

Mordred. The note said that Mordred knew. Why didn’t he tell me? Why would he obey Merlin’s request? See, that’s where it doesn’t add up. That’s how I know that this is some sort of sick, twisted game. Maybe Morgana’s involved. She certainly did a number on Guinevere. Maybe I’ve been enchanted, or Merlin has, or somebody has because I didn’t abandon my best friend. He didn’t walk right past me yesterday. Merlin hasn’t left Camelot. I won’t accept that. I can’t.

I spin around and stride out of the all-too-empty room. “Gaius, do you know where Sir Mordred is? Surely he has some answers.”

“I last saw Mordred when the _three_ of you came back,” he says, his tone accusing. “He told me what happened and asked for medical supplies because he feared Merlin had a concussion coupled with exhaustion from pushing himself too much to save his friend, your Queen. I believe Mordred was going to seek the help of Sir Gwaine to go back for Merlin. Considering the note, I guess that the knights missed him and are still out searching.”

“Gwaine, why would he go to Gwaine?” And not me, the question remains unsaid.

Gaius stands, rising to his full height and looking every bit as defiant as Merlin usually does. “Because Sir Gwaine is Merlin’s closest friend in Camelot. If anyone was willing to drop everything for Merlin’s sake, it is Gwaine. Now if you don’t mind, _sire_ , I have to write a letter to Hunith explaining what has happened. She needs to know that her son no longer resides in Camelot.”

“I’ll be bringing him back.”

“With all due respect, your majesty, if Merlin does not want to come back, he won’t. If you try to force him, you will only serve to drive him away even more than you already have.”

“I didn’t-.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think happened, sire. The fact of the matter is you did leave him behind after forgetting about him. I know Merlin has a habit of surviving anything and just appearing when everything is over, but you didn’t check this time. Imagine for a moment how you would feel if Merlin had left you behind.”

I scoff. “Merlin would _never_ forget about me.”

“Exactly. He thought the same thing about you.” Gaius turns away from me. “Clearly he was wrong.”

I hear the ‘now get the hell out of my chambers’ loud and clear. Maybe someone at the Rising Sun knows when Gwaine and Mordred left. If I ride hard, I might be able to catch up with them and help hunt Merlin down. Regardless of what Gaius said, I will be dragging him home. If I have to apologise, then fine. I’ll do that after he explains why he didn’t just call out to me or something. He clearly had time to have a bloody conversation with Mordred without me knowing.

*

The lower town seems quieter than normal, the whole of Camelot does. It makes sense now that I know who’s missing, who’s always by my side prattling away about nonsense. How could I have missed him walking right past me? That part of the note must have been exaggerated. Merlin’s reaction is exaggerated. I didn’t leave him behind. He must’ve taken a nap instead of following like he should and now he’s decided to leave Camelot over it. I can’t have left him behind.

Even the Rising Sun seems impossibly quiet, but I think that’s more because it’s morning and everyone is still recovering last night’s hangovers. I spot the owner picking up knocked over chairs and march over to him with all my regal glory. He sees me and sighs. Is everyone going to completely disrespect me today?

“When was the last time you saw Sir Gwaine?” I ask.

“He was here the night before last, left in a hurry with that young knight. I’ve never seen Gwaine so worried. He even paid for his drink.”

They left that quickly? Mordred wouldn’t have even slept after our trip. Then again, if I’d known Merlin hadn’t come back with us, I would’ve left that quickly too.

“Did you catch where they were heading?”

Just in case it wasn’t the Cauldron.

“Afraid not, sire.”

I’ll have to track Merlin’s route out of Camelot from yesterday then.

“Thank you for your information. I’ll leave you to it then.”

I pretend to not hear the ‘good’ he mutters as I turn and leave. Right then, I’ll just inform Guinevere of the situation then track down my servant. Hopefully I’ll find Sirs Gwaine and Mordred along the way. I suppose I could ask some of the other Knights of the Round Table for help, but I don’t want them to know that I may or may not have left their favourite servant behind. I’m not sure what exactly happened yet, but I’m sure that whatever Merlin thinks is just some sort of misunderstanding. I didn’t abandon him. I didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took Mordred convincing Gwaine of the urgency of the situation to stop him from hunting Arthur down and punching him for leaving Merlin behind.


	3. Obligation

**MERLIN**

I can’t say I’m surprised when I hear Mordred shouting out ‘Emrys’ in mind speech. I don’t respond, of course. I just keep grinding herbs together and preparing the tonics I plan to sell this afternoon. I hear two sets of footsteps behind me in the forest and turn to see who Mordred’s brought with him, only to be surprised … by Gwaine tackling me to the ground in a hug.

“You’ve no idea how glad I am that you’re alive, Merlin.”

I shrug, or at least try to under his weight. “It wasn’t that serious.”

“Mordred told me you could’ve died back there. We weren’t sure whether to be relieved or more worried when we couldn’t find you.” Gwaine thankfully stops crushing me and pulls me to my feet. “Why didn’t you return to Camelot?”

I pack my belongings. “I did.”

Gwaine seems to finally see the size of my pack. “You… You left?”

“Seemed rather fitting after he left me.”

“But you’re Merlin. You’re the one who’s always convincing everyone how good Arthur is. I thought… I thought you’d convince me not to throw my glove down the next time I see the Princess after what he did to you.”

“You can do whatever you want, Gwaine. I’d rather you not kill the man. I’m not sure Gwen is ready to take the throne. But that aside, Arthur’s not my problem anymore. He’s not my King.”

“You can’t be serious,” Mordred says, almost a whisper. He stares at me, open, confused and so damn innocent. “You’ve stuck by him for _years_. How could you turn your back on him now, after all this time, after everything?”

I sigh, shouldering my pack. “Because he did it first and second and third. You can see how that might wear someone done after so many years.”

“You really aren’t coming back?” Gwaine asks, seemingly in shock.

“I don’t belong in Camelot, never really did.”

“But what about your friends? What about me?”

“I’m sorry,” I say, looking him in the eye. “This isn’t your fault. It’s nobody’s fault except mine. I should never have gone to Camelot in the first place.” I smile, quick, wide and oh so fake. “Not to worry, I’ll still keep in contact with my friends. Maybe we can even go on some adventures, only this time I won’t just be a servant.”

“You never were.”

I break away from his all-too-earnest gaze. “To you, perhaps.”

“To all of us. You were never just our servant. You’re our friend. You’re Arthur’s-.”

“Friends don’t abandon each other!”

Gwaine flinches. Mordred looks away.

“Look,” I say. “I get that you’ve come all this way to make sure I’m alright, and I’m grateful, to both of you, truly. But you’re both Knights of Camelot and your kingdom needs you. I’ve no intention of returning to the castle. I’m even considering leaving the kingdom entirely, maybe to Nemeth. You can’t follow me forever. In fact, I think it’s best that you start heading home before nightfall. There’s nothing for you here.”

I turn to leave. Gwaine grabs my arm.

“There’s you,” he says.

“I am _not_ going back there. And you can’t stay away forever. You have a duty.”

“I DON’T CARE ABOUT DUTY!” Gwaine forces me to face him. I refuse to meet his eyes. “I only joined up with the Princess because of you, Merlin. He might be stupid enough to leave you behind, but I’m not. I won’t abandon you. If that means handing in my red cloak, then so be it. The Princess can come collect it himself.”

I shake my head. “You can’t do that, Gwaine. Not for me. I… If you knew all there was to know about me, you’d be repulsed. And I can’t let that happen. I just can’t.”

_“He wouldn’t fear your magic,”_ Mordred says through mind-speech.

_“I have committed far greater crimes than being born with magic.”_

_“And yet your first instinct when left to your own devices is to become a healer.”_

_“It’s the only way I know to make an honest living. That’s all.”_

Mordred steps forward. “As far as I’m concerned, we’re in charge of your safety until the King comes to collect his manservant. If that takes weeks, then we stay with you for weeks.”

“I’m not his servant.”

_“His destiny then?”_

I refuse to answer that. Mordred seems to grow more concerned.

Gwaine straightens. “Then let’s hand in our resignations together. I’ll secure us a room. After Arthur inevitably comes and finds us, we can make our journey to Nemeth.”

He leaves before I can protest. I sigh.

Mordred immediately turns to me, looking less and less like a traitor with every expression of pure concern directed at me.

“I understand that he’s hurt you, but abandoning your destiny, everything you’ve worked for, that doesn’t fit the man I know. Emrys or Merlin,” he says.

I kick at the ground. “I haven’t left Arthur, my destiny, just Arthur, the man. It’s not like constantly being by his side has done anything to help magic’s case. And it’s a lot easier to protect his royal backside when I don’t have to worry about him catching me doing it. I’m sure the Knights are more than capable of keeping the prat alive when I’m not at his side every moment of every day. I’ll still check over every new visitor and I’ve put up enough protection charms on his clothes and armour over the years that even Morgana would have trouble killing him. If someone does somehow manage to get past even one layer, I’ll feel it and deal with them. I just wish I had the skill to do this years ago. Do you have any idea how great it is to not be berated all the time? I’ve never been happier.”

Mordred shakes his head. “You miss him.”

“He left me. I was dying right behind him and he didn’t even notice.”

“If you had just let me tell him-.”

“That’s not the point! He shouldn’t have forgotten me. He shouldn’t have needed you to prompt him when I was disguised as the Dolma. I’ve treated him with the upmost loyalty for a decade and he forgot me. I’ve treated you terribly and you had the sense to remember. It’s not like I’d ever blame Gwen; she was completely out of it. Arthur hadn’t even told her I was there in the first place. I don’t know what I expected from a man who can’t even dress himself. The only reason he’s the Greatest King in all of Albion is because I’ve been behind him, telling him to not make stupid choices like kill Odin, which he only listened to after not listening to me when I told him not to kill Caerleon. It’s a wonder he lasted almost twenty-one years without getting himself killed before I met him.”

“Don’t you see, Emrys? He needs your council. Your destiny isn’t just about saving him; it’s about guiding him.”

I don’t think Mordred realises just how ridiculous it is, him talking to me about my destiny, like he isn’t fated to kill the man I must protect. Then again, Mordred doesn’t know that, does he? It certainly wouldn’t make sense as to why he wants me to go home. No, it’s not home anymore, just Camelot. Just that citadel that has hosted the slaughtering of our kin. I think I understand Morgana now, just a little. Arthur is just like his father. But killing innocents, taking over Camelot isn’t the way to do it. I’ll make sure the Golden Age comes for all. If that comes at the cost of the life I built in Camelot, then so be it.

It was only holding me back anyway.

“If you know so much about my destiny, then why don’t you go do it?” I snap. “After all, you’ve already got Arthur’s complete attention, don’t you? You’re already his favourite knight and he’s already open to druids. I bet if you told him about once having magic, he’d accept it without hesitation, just like he accepted you.”

“Is that what this is about then? Are you seriously jealous of me? You?” Mordred’s concern is quickly replaced by anger. “You’ve spent the last ten years safely in Camelot while our kin are persecuted and killed around you. You chose to protect Uther Pendragon instead of letting Arthur rise to the throne when he was meant to. You act as though you’ve been forced to make terrible decisions for destiny’s sake, but you know nothing of reducing yourself to a criminal just to survive. Or did you forget how you and Arthur found me? Did you forget that I truly believed the rumours of Morgana’s insanity were exaggerated, that one of the people who’ve inspired me to keep surviving all this time, has succumbed to the very darkness I’ve managed to stave off, without help, without guidance, without anything?

“You have no idea how lucky you truly are, Merlin. I understand that you’ve finally buckled under the weight of your destiny, but what I don’t get is that we druids were always taught about your shared fate with the Once and Future King. Tell me, Emrys, how exactly did you expect things to play out if you never told Arthur what was going on?”

“It was never the right time,” I answer weakly.

Mordred scoffs. “If you weren’t so obsessed with waiting for _the right time_ , we’d never be in this mess in the first place. I would’ve told Arthur that he had forgotten about you, you would’ve stumbled with your disguise before eventually re-emerging as Merlin and we would’ve gone home, me respecting you even more than before for summoning the White Goddess while maintaining an aging spell. When Arthur shows up, and it was never a matter of if, you should tell him the truth. If he’s not ready for it after this long, then he never will be. I’ll keep serving him, but at least we won’t be wasting our energy hoping for a time that’ll never come. What you do, well that’s up to you. It always has been. After all, you never even knew you were Emrys before we met. You never had to acknowledge the name.”

“How did you know? When we met, I never could figure out how you just knew.”

“That’s exactly it. I just knew. Just like I just knew that Arthur was going to be a great King worth serving and that Morgana always had light in her, up until I saw her in Ismere. Now it’s gone, suffocating under the darkness.” He turns away. “See what happens when you wait too long?”

I try to say that it won’t happen to me too, that I’m nothing like Morgana, but can’t help remembering all of Kilgharrah’s warnings and that damned vision. If Mordred could turn evil, then what’s to say I can’t too? Destiny? Fate? My destiny abandoned me. Is it really something I can trust?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never meant to address Merlin's jealousy of Mordred in this chapter. It just kind of happened naturally, but I'm glad I did. I feel like if he had gotten past that obvious jealousy in canon, then he wouldn't have been so quick to believe in fate and ridiculous visions of a possible future.


	4. Resignation

**ARTHUR**

It doesn’t take me long to find Gwaine and Mordred. They’re on the outskirts of a rather small village close to the border of Nemeth. It does take me a while to recover from the shock of being punched. I expected it from Gwaine, braced myself for it even. But not the follow-up from Mordred that knocked me to the ground.

“Your blindness has no bounds, _your majesty_ ,” he spits, before storming off, presumably to Merlin.

I stand up and rub my jaw.

“If it’s any consolation, he’s been your biggest advocate,” Gwaine says.

“Why would I need an advocate for?” I ask. “In fact, why haven’t you just dragged Merlin home already?”

“Because he’s my friend and I respect his decision. I understand exactly why he’d want to leave Camelot.”

“I didn’t abandon him,” I say automatically, even though it wasn’t asked.

Gwaine seems to take pity on me, not that I need it, because his glare softens. “I’m afraid even if you did acknowledge what you did and apologised for it, he still wouldn’t go back there.”

“You’re talking about Camelot as if it isn’t your home too.”

“If Merlin decides to leave, I’ll be going with him. Someone’s got to watch his back, especially in this state.”

I don’t like the worry carrying through those words. “How bad is it? Is he injured?”

“Physically he seems fine, but… Well, you’ll have to see for yourself. Just do us all a favour and don’t be, well, don’t act like your prattish self. I don’t think he’s in the right state of mind to handle any sort of banter, even if it’s normally light-hearted.”

“I…” I try to say something along the lines of not ordering your own King, but this is Gwaine, who is casually talking about abandoning his duties and knighthood because his friend might want to leave Camelot. I sigh. “Where is he?”

Gwaine doesn’t respond, just solemnly leads me through the village. Nobody seems to notice that their King is visiting. They continue with their daily duties with only the occasional sparing glance towards us. Then again, neither Gwaine nor Mordred wear their red cloaks and I was in such a rush to leave Camelot that I didn’t bother to wear anything fancier than my usual hunting garb. From Gwaine’s manner and perpetual worry, I thought he’d lead me to the village’s only tavern where Merlin would be downing his tenth tankard of the mead of the morning.

Imagine my surprise when I hear, what is distinctly, Merlin’s laughter as we enter the village square.

The dark-haired man looks happier than I’ve seen him in _years_ , which is enough to unsettle my stomach. Surely, I would’ve noticed that his grins weren’t quite what they used to be or that his shoulders always seemed a little more hunched before now. I didn’t. But I didn’t leave him behind either. It was a misunderstanding, a cruel prank to get me scrambling the edge of my kingdom, anything but genuine. Gwaine moves off to join Mordred, who’s watching from the edge of the square, a fair distance away.

Merlin finishes wrapping a bandage around a young girl’s arm, smiles impossibly widely again as she runs to her mother, and rises to his feet. He notices me, and the smile immediately drops. His face transforms into a scowl, no hint of mirth or laughter left. I take that as my cue to storm up to him with all of my royal dignity, self-assured confidence oozing off me. Merlin just seems to get more annoyed.

“What _are_ you doing?” I ask, foregoing the pleasantries I was planning on.

Merlin pushes past me. “My job.”

I grab his arm. “Your job? You’re my manservant, Merlin. That’s your job.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I stopped being your servant after you left me for dead.” Merlin rips his arm back. “It was hardly the first time and it wasn’t going to be the last. If you can’t be bothered checking that I’m still at your side, then I won’t be bothered with returning to it.”

“What are you talking about?”

That note was a lie. It had to be.

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, because Merlin’s expression turns murderous. “I’m talking about you walking off with your happy ending, Gwen and Mordred at your side, while my injuries and exhaustion took hold of me. I’m talking about you not even realising that I was missing until you were back in Camelot for two days. That’s five days after you left me alone, passed out, right near where Morgana was last sighted. I’m talking about the fact, Arthur Pendragon, that you are incapable of seeing anything outside your utterly ridiculously perception of the world, and I am beyond done with it. I was right, when we met. I could never be friends with someone who could be such an ass. I only regret not realising it sooner.”

Merlin marches off, leaving me speechless. I should follow him. I know I should. The King of Camelot is not scared of what his manservant … ex-manservant has to say. But I can’t move my feet. I don’t know if I can even breathe. The man I’ve relied on for ten years, the person I trust above all else, my closest friend… Merlin’s always had faith in me, even when I couldn’t manage it in the slightest. And I didn’t even realise when I lost it. Because it’s gone now, that admiration and unflinching loyalty he’s always had. What am I meant to do to get it back? I need it. I need him. How’d I forget that, forget my best friend?

My legs give out. I’m sure the villagers are wondering why their King is kneeling on the ground, frozen in shock. They still might not even realise who I am. And I can’t bring myself to care.

“Arthur, what was that?” Gwaine crouches in front of me. “I thought I told you to…” His exasperation disappears the moment water gathers in my eyes.

I force them to focus on him and try to stop the tears, but they just keeping escaping. I imagine I’m a pathetic sight to look at, but Gwaine’s expression holds no mocking, only concern.

“Gwaine, I think I’ve made a terrible mistake. And I haven’t the slightest clue how to fix it.”

Gwaine grips my shoulders. “Not to worry, Arthur, I’ll have you two sorted out before the week’s end.”

He sounds so sure, but he doesn’t understand. He didn’t see Merlin’s face up close, didn’t see that coldness, didn’t see the resentment. He doesn’t know that when I looked into Merlin’s eyes, it wasn’t the warmth that usually greets me, but the unrestrained hate I’ve only seen in the likes of Morgana. He doesn’t know that I’ve lost him. Merlin, I’ve lost him.

No. I left him behind, like some unimportant belonging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merlin doesn’t hate Arthur. He’s just really, really angry and tired. Arthur’s not used to seeing those emotions on Merlin, so he’s not the best at reading them.


	5. Revelation

**MERLIN**

Mordred, of all people, manages to calm me down after Arthur showed up and acted just like the complete ass that he’s always been. I’ve no idea why I thought he’d have the decency to take responsibility for his actions and apologise. That druid incident with Elyan must’ve been a one-time thing. It seems Arthur’s incapable of acting like a decent person when one of his knights’ lives isn’t in danger. I can’t believe I allowed myself to hope that after Arthur showed up, everything would be fine. I really am the idiot he always claimed I was.

Gwaine finds me in the forest next to the village, trying to collect herbs, but mostly just trying to not burn the trees down.

“Merlin?”

“What?” I snap. Gwaine freezes mid-stride and tilts his head. I sigh. “Sorry, Arthur’s just got me so-.”

“He is sorry for that. Never seen Princess look so devastated.”

I scoff. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Yeah, well, you kind of stormed off before things could really sink in for him.”

“Then why are you here, instead of him?”

“Figured you’d be less likely to punch me. Mordred and I already did a number on Arthur. Even he doesn’t deserve being hit in the face a third time today.”

“Mordred punched him?” He didn’t tell me.

Gwaine smiles. “Should’ve seen the look on Princess’ face. I’m surprised you didn’t notice the bruises. You’re usually hyper-aware of his injuries.”

“Guess that’s what happens when your best friend leaves you behind like garbage then has the audacity to demand why I didn’t stay by his side.”

“Wouldn’t know from experience. My best friend happens to be one of the best men I’ve ever met.” His earnest gaze leaves no question of who that is. “If he hopped on a horse right now and rode off into the sunset, I’d be on his tail, no red cloak in sight.”

“You can’t mean that.”

Gwaine smiles. “I’d follow you into hell and back, Merlin, with my eyes closed.”

“How can you say that? You don’t know the things I’ve done, Gwaine. You don’t know…”

“Then tell me.”

“I...”

“Because I know all of this isn’t just because Arthur left you. There’s something else, something much bigger that you won’t tell anyone about. It’s the real reason you don’t want to go back to Camelot.”

“I don’t belong there, never did.”

“That’s what I don’t understand, Merlin. You and Camelot, you fit together like you and Arthur do. You just belong there. You make others feel like they could too. You turn that cold castle into a home, harsh nobles into just people and drunk vagabonds into friends. So, what could possibly make the man who makes everyone feel welcome in Camelot, feel unwelcome?”

I duck my head, unable to meet Gwaine’s genuine concern. I’ve got to tell him. He deserves that much if he’s so willing to throw his knighthood away to leave Camelot for me. I just haven’t _told_ anyone since Freya. Everyone else found out by my being careless. Freya though, she didn’t last a week after I told her. Lancelot died a year after knowing and living in Camelot. Gaius has been tortured twice. Balinor found out while he was dying. Things don’t usually go well for those who know about my magic. Then again, there’s still every chance that Gwaine will turn me into Arthur himself. It’s not like he’s been open about his opinions on the subject.

I cup my hands together and mutter a spell. I meet Gwaine’s eyes as the unmistakeable gold fades from my eyes and open my hands, revealing a blue flower.

“It’s a little hard to feel welcome in a place where I could be executed for being born with magic,” I say, trying to sound light-hearted, but my voice shakes a little too much.

Gwaine moves so fast, he knocks the air out of my lungs. He’s hugging me, holding me so tight that he’s shaking. No, wait, that’s me. I’m shaking, my entire body is shaking violently. There are tears too, running waterfalls down my face. Gwaine whispers, “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” over and over again. I cling to the back of his jacket. He somehow pulls me closer.

“I’d never hurt you, Merlin. It’s okay. I won’t tell a soul.”

“Not even Arthur?” I can’t help how weak my voice is.

“Especially not Arthur. No wonder you want to leave. Anyone else would’ve run for it years ago.”

“Had to stay. Had to protect Arthur, protect Camelot. Too many threats that only magic can handle. Prat is lucky I’m so powerful, else we’d all have been dead ages ago. If it wasn’t for destiny I’d have left within the first week.”

Gwaine pulls back. “Destiny?”

I sigh. “Arthur’s the Once and Future King, destined to unite the lands of Albion and bring about a Golden Age. I’m meant to help him as Emrys, the greatest sorcerer to ever live.”

“Emrys?”

“It’s what the druids call me, even after I asked them not to, repeatedly.”

_“We’re not going to stop calling you by your name, Emrys.”_

_“Eavesdropping is rude, Mordred.”_

_“I thought I would warn you that King Arthur is approaching your position. If you had rather gone without that warning, then I’ll refrain from eavesdropping in the future.”_

I clench my fist. _“Thank you.”_

I can just tell Mordred’s smiling that smug little smile. _“You’re welcome, Emrys.”_

“There a reason you just spaced out?” Gwaine asks.

“Arthur’s coming.”

“Oh, you should probably hide, well.” He gestures to my face. “All that.”

I rub away the last of my tears and crack a smile. “Better?”

“Almost.” Gwaine rescues the fallen blue flower from the ground and tucks it behind my ear. “Better.”

I shake my head. Arthur rounds the corner. He locks eyes on the flower, then Gwaine, then me and scoffs before turning around and striding away. My smile drops.

“And here I was thinking he wanted to apologise,” I mutter.

“Give him some more time. You know how hard it is for Princess to admit he’s wrong. I imagine it’s no easier seeing you okay with everyone else except him.”

I scoff. “I’m hardly going to let something he did affect how I treat you, Mordred or any of the villagers here. Contrary to Arthur’s belief, my life doesn’t revolve around him. It might’ve before, but not after he took five days to notice I was missing. I’m sure he’d just claim he wasn’t my keeper. It’s like he forgets that we used to be friends.”

“Do you think you could be friends with him again?”

_“The King is still listening,”_ Mordred warns.

“Honestly, no. I’m leaving for Nemeth tomorrow morning. You can go back to Camelot with them. I won’t blame you for returning to your friends.”

Gwaine grins and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Ah, but, Merlin, you forget. That lot have each other. I’m hardly going to let you go by yourself. I’ll be sure to hand Arthur my cloak before we leave.”

I don’t want to go, but if Arthur can’t even apologise… Who am I kidding? I can’t return to how things were before even if Arthur apologies for the Cauldron incident. But I know Arthur deserves a chance to talk without me storming off. Ten years of friendship has to count for something, however one-sided, and easy to toss aside at a moment’s notice for Arthur, it was. He has until we leave to gather up some of his famous courage. I just hope he realises, like Gwaine did, that this wasn’t an isolated incident. It’s going to take a lot more than a little apology to get me to go back to Camelot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not sure how long this will be yet. I've got the next chapter planned out and a bit of the one after that. I'll be adding more characters to the tags after the next.


	6. Reconciliation

**ARTHUR**

Okay so maybe getting annoyed at him being with Gwaine wasn’t the best reaction. I could have perhaps handled that situation better. But it’s not like I was the one declaring that our friendship is over, permanently. Didn’t Gwaine say he’d have us sorted out by the end of the week? Merlin’s leaving the kingdom in the morning. My definition of sorted out and Gwaine’s must be very different things. Sure, the whole marching off didn’t help things, but it’s not like Merlin’s making this easy.

I mean, it’s Merlin. It goes against everything that our friendship is built on for me to apologise to him. Maybe that’s the problem. I have to fix this, don’t I?

I groan. I hate having to be the voice of reason.

Merlin is in his room at the village’s only inn when I knock on the door.

He doesn’t ask who it is, just opens it with a scowl and steps aside. “Well, are you coming in or not?”

I stride in. “I’m not going to have a conversation with a door, _Mer_ lin. That much should’ve been obvious.”

Merlin slams the door closed. “Well you are the master of not seeing the obvious, _sire_ , so excuse me for asking.”

We’re already off to a bad start.

I sigh. “Look, Merlin, I just wanted to say that… Well, the thing is, I ah, sort of…”

He rolls his eyes. “I did want to go to sleep at some point tonight, _your majesty_.”

“I’m sorry! Okay, there, I said it. I’m sorry I left you behind. I didn’t even think it was possible for something like that to happen. I just assumed you’d be there like you always are and I didn’t check. You’ve no idea how much I wish that I had just turned around and checked. I was just so elated over having Guinevere back that it didn’t even cross my mind. You didn’t even cross my mind. And I know that’s not good enough. I know I should’ve realised when we made camp or at any point before we got back to Camelot. It’s unacceptable that it took me so long before I noticed that you weren’t there. I’m a terrible King and an even worse friend, but dammit, Merlin, I just want to go home and put this behind us. I want to make sure that something like this never happens again to anyone.”

“That’s not how these things work, _sire_. I can’t just forget that you left me to die. I can’t just forget how willing you are to throw away our friendship whenever I get a little too vocal, something you once told me you preferred me for. I can’t just _forget_ that you have repeatedly sided with anyone and everyone over me, your supposed best friend. I can’t forget, Arthur. And until you get it through your thick head that I’m not following you back to Camelot like some blindly loyal servant, I certainly won’t even begin to forgive you.”

It’s hard to not match his cutting tone. I swallow my pride and kneel before Merlin.

“Please tell me what it would take to bring you home, to your friends, even if that no longer includes me. I won’t ask you to be my servant any longer if you truly do not wish it, but you don’t deserve to feel unwelcome there because of me.”

“When Uther first hired me, he asked me what I wanted, if I could have anything. I knew then that he would’ve chopped my head off rather than grant my one wish.”

“Whatever it is, I’ll-.”

“No, you won’t. You might not kill me for making the request, Arthur, but you’d certainly hate me for it. I _know_ you. You’d be honour-bound to grant it and resent me every single day for asking such a thing. I lost my opportunity to make it happen amicably by making a stupid, stupid choice. Serves me right for choosing you over Camelot.”

I want to ask him what he’s talking about. I want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he starts making sense. I want to knock him out and drag him home myself. But I can’t, not if I want to repair our friendship. Instead, I bow my head.

“Please, Merlin. However I’ve wronged you in the past, don’t make others pay for my mistakes. Guinevere, Gaius, the Knights. You have friends in Camelot who would miss you and-.”

“Would they now? Tell me, who else noticed I was missing, apart from Gaius?”

“I-.”

“Because I’m sure after maybe a week or two passed, they would’ve started to wander where I disappeared to, but it would be much longer before they started to ask questions. If you truly want to play the Gwen card, then maybe you should think back to before she was under Morgana’s control. Compare that to before she was Queen. She may have been my first friend in Camelot and one of my closest for years, but we’ve drifted since she got the crown. I don’t blame her for it. In fact, I’m so very proud. She’s been under immense pressure from all sides, but leaving Camelot isn’t going to make me miss her more. I’ve already been missing her for three years.”

I stand up, ready to defend Guinevere, but almost immediately lose my fight as I process his words. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“You never do.”

“Maybe things can change.”

Merlin scoffs. “I’ve thought that so many times, but they never really do, not for me. It took you over a year to realise I was a fully-trained physician. And even longer to respect that fact. You’re constantly belittling me even after I’ve personally gotten you to recover your faith in yourself after you’ve been beaten down. I’ve no clue who would be sitting on the throne next to you if I hadn’t risked banishment to convince you of following your heart to Gwen. Did I get any thanks? No. I used to think I was okay with that. I was wrong.”

This bitterness, just how long has it been building for? How many times has he pushed it back, concealed behind that all-too-fragile grin?

“One week. Give me one week to fix things between us in Camelot. If after that, you still want to go, then fine, I won’t bother you anymore. Just give me a chance, Merlin. I know you don’t think I deserve it, but just this once, let me be an entitled prat and give me one chance.”

Merlin cocks his head to the side. “You actually feel guilty, don’t you?” he asks.

“Of course.” How was that not obvious before?

“Well, don’t worry about that, Arthur. I can take the guilt away in just seven words. I can make you want to go back to Camelot and never seek me out in just seven words. I can erase ten years of your pretend friendship in just seven words, completely destroying any sort of affection you’ve fooled yourself into thinking you have for me.”

“I doubt it.”

“I released the Great Dragon.”

No. That’s, that’s just a lie to… Wait. “That was only five words.”

Merlin smiles. “Swefe nu.”

His eyes flash gold and I fall back, vaguely aware of Merlin catching me and carefully laying me down as I fall unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so, the chapter title is a lie.


	7. Explanation

**MERLIN**

Arthur knows about my magic. Arthur knows about my magic. Arthur knows about my magic. Oh Gods, I just used my magic on Arthur. What was I thinking? Right, I wasn’t. But I was. Then I wasn’t. But really, I was.

“Merlin!”

I look up at Gwaine. “Yes?”

He pushes off the doorframe, glancing from Arthur unconscious on the bed to me. “You alright?” he asks.

“No. Yes. Maybe.”

Gwaine slings his arm around my shoulders. “Well, my friend, that’s understandable, but now isn’t the time for freaking out. Let’s cross the border to Nemeth and then you can start worrying over all this.”

“But-.”

_“I’ll take care of Arthur, Emrys.”_

Mordred walks in, barely looking at his King.

Gwaine startles. “Mordred, this isn’t what it looks like.”

Mordred cocks his head to the side. “It looks like Emrys just put our King under a sleeping spell.”          

“Emrys?” Gwaine grins. “You’re a druid, aren’t you?”

“Obviously. It’s best that you keep that quiet though, or I won’t be able to protect Arthur in Merlin’s stead.”

I hold back a laugh. Guess fate can be wrong about some things, after all.

“Thank you, Mordred,” I say.

He smiles, that whole-face-lights-up smile that reminds me of his age. “I’ll keep Arthur under the spell for one more day to give you enough time. He doesn’t have to know that it wasn’t just your magic.”

“Good luck dealing with Princess when he wakes up,” Gwaine says, half-dragging me out already. “You’re a good knight, Mordred.”

_“Sorry I doubted you in the past.”_

_“You were protecting your King, your friend, Emrys. I would’ve done the same.”_

With one last glance at the slumped, snoring Arthur, I let Gwaine guide me out of the inn. Within an hour, we’re crossing over the border to Nemeth. 

*

Gwaine doesn’t ask any questions until we’re stopping to camp for the night, the next day. He’s left his red cloak behind and is helping set up camp like he did before his knighthood. It feels more natural to take on the duties between us, but I wish it hadn’t come to this. It’s not fair that he’s given up his rightfully earned title for me. I don’t have the energy to argue and convince him to go back. Every time I go to, he meets me with steely eyes. I sigh and start the campfire with a whispered _Forbaerne._

“Were you planning it?” Gwaine asks.

“Not really. I guess I-.”

SNAP!

I whip my head around, eyes itching to burn gold, but I force the instinctual magic down. Gwaine’s already standing sword drawn. An oddly familiar laugh echoes through the clearing. There’s a couple of other sticks snapping as a small figure edges closer, crossbow in hand, but not raised. She steps into the light, revealing her hunting gear, her amused smile dropping as she takes in our expressions.

Princess Mithian.

“Merlin? What are you doing here?” she asks. “Where’s King Arthur?”

I relax a little. “Most probably heading back to Camelot to declare me an enemy of the crown. Hopefully he won’t divert resources from the Morgana search effort. She needs to be their priority.”

Mithian raises an eyebrow. “Sir Gwaine, please tell me this is some joke.”

He sheathes his sword. “Afraid not, your majesty. And it’s just Gwaine now.”

“Arthur revoked your knighthood?”

“I resigned. We both did.”

Mithian frowns. “Arthur found out, didn’t he?”

“Found out what?” Gwaine asks, actually sounding oblivious.

I scan Mithian’s expression but find only concern. I nod.

“He didn’t take it well then?”

“Didn’t stick around to find out.”      

“You told him?”

“More or less. I-. I realised that I couldn’t stay in Camelot anymore. I lost my trust and faith in Arthur as my friend. He’s still the King of Camelot that her allies need. Arthur couldn’t accept my decision to leave. So, I showed him why he shouldn’t trust me.”

“I’m sure there are better ways than revealing your magic.”

“Perhaps, but it was the quickest. Now Arthur won’t waste time wondering what he did wrong instead of ruling his kingdom. He’ll blame me instead of feeling guilt over what he did.”

“And what exactly could Arthur have done to lose even your faith?”

“It’s not important now. At the rate we were going, something like this was bound to happen eventually.” I shrug. “Guess that’s what happens when a friendship is built on lies.”

Gwaine holds up his hands. “Wait a moment.” He turns to Mithian. “How did you find out about Merlin?”

I was kind of wondering that too.

“I’ve known since I last came to Camelot,” she answers. “There was an earthquake that saved us all when we rescued my father, and then Merlin suddenly appeared. Merlin having magic certainly explained that and why he wasn’t afraid of Morgana. He even noticed the bracelet that Morgana enchanted to hurt me. I saw enough of Merlin’s character to know he wouldn’t dare hurt Camelot or his friends. So, I decided to let my little discovery be forgotten in all the turmoil of the day. I can hardly be blamed for not remembering to tell Arthur about it.”

I grin. “Thank you, Princess.”

“You were the only person to realise something was wrong back then, Merlin. I will be forever grateful that you didn’t blame me for it.”

“Well, I know a thing or two about being under Morgana’s control. It certainly wasn’t my favourite experience.”

“You were enchanted?” Mithian asks.

I smile. “Tried to kill Arthur.”

Gwaine stares at me, incredulous. “When did this happen?”

“A few years ago. Gaius stunned the formorroh that Morgana implanted in my neck long enough for me to deal with it. Then after one of the worst experiences of my life, Arthur decided to punish me for my disappearance. It was hardly the first time something like that happened. Once, I just plainly told him that I had been dying and he scoffed.”

“Were you?” Mithian asks. “Dying, I mean.”

“Yep. Serket sting. I’ve still got the scar.”

Gwaine shakes his head. “If Arthur knew-.”

“Nothing would change. I still have magic. He still left me for dead. I’m still the biggest threat to Camelot.”

“What about Morgana?” Mithian asks.

“Comparing Morgana’s power to mine is like comparing a river to the sea. The river might rage in the storm, but the sea dwarfs everything else.”

“Then why haven’t you stopped her?”

Mithian makes it sounds like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“Morgana doesn’t know, about my magic or my destiny. I’m… I’m meant to help Arthur unite Albion, bring about a Golden Age of Peace and somehow get magic to be legal.” I take a breath. “I’m also destined to be Morgana’s doom. I’m meant to kill someone I used to be friends with, someone that fought alongside me to save my village from bandits, someone who only turned to darkness after I turned her away when she was developing her magic. I made Morgana what she is today. She’s my responsibility. I know that, yet… Yet every single time that I’ve found myself in a position to end her life, I’ve saved her instead. It’s not like killing is a problem for me. I’ve lost count of the people I’ve killed or sacrificed for the good of Camelot. But none of them came into Gaius’s chambers in the middle of the night, crying because they were terrified of becoming a monster just for having magic.”

“You still care about her?” they both ask, Gwaine shocked and Mithian somewhat understanding.

“I miss her, the Lady Morgana that used to get thrown in the dungeons for the sake of others, without be deterred. The woman who was my best chance at convincing Arthur to do something just, even when it went against his father’s orders. I wish I could save her, the real her, but I’m not naïve enough to believe that I can. I want to make her pay for her crimes, but I still don’t know if I could kill her, even if I’m the only one that can.” I let out a broken laugh. “I guess that makes me kind of pathetic.”

“No.” Mithian steps closer to the fire. “Merlin, I knew when we first met that you were anything but a standard servant. You certainly aren’t weak or pathetic. You have one of the strongest wills that I’ve ever discovered, stronger even than Arthur’s. You refused to accept my place in Camelot, not because you didn’t like me, but because you knew Guinevere would be a better Queen for Arthur. You may not have brought magic back to Camelot yet, but it is legal here, always has been. When I become Queen, I’ll do my best to convince Arthur and the other kingdoms of the good magic holds. Perhaps one day he’ll be begging you to go home, magic and all.”

Gwaine grins. “Guess I have a new favourite Princess.”

“You would be most welcome to join our knights, Gwaine. It would certainly wake Arthur up if Nemeth took in his best fighters.”

I don’t miss the implication. “Taking me in could be seen as a declaration of war against Camelot. I just attacked their King.”

“Yet you have saved both mine and my father’s life. You will always be welcome in Nemeth, Merlin. Besides, Arthur can hardly declare war over his ex-manservant. That would mean revealing to everyone that he had a sorcerer at the heart of Camelot for years.”

“Warlock,” I correct. “I was born with magic.”

“Warlock, then.”

“I-. I’ll think about it. I think I need to find Morgana first. If I deal with her head-on then I don’t have to worry about where she is and what she’s doing. Her attention would be solely on me.”

Gwaine sits on the ground besides me. “And me. Don’t think you’re getting rid of me that soon.”

Mithian sits on the log across from us with all the grace of, well, a princess. “Accompany me back to the castle and I’ll secure a way of communicating any news we gather about Morgana. I’m sure my father would be more than happy to offer you the resources necessary to rid us of this mutual threat.”

Gwaine looks to me for the answer. I sigh.

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It always made sense to me that Mithian would figure out Merlin's magic on her own. She's been the best person to understand his personality/true power over Arthur. Plus, she doesn't have that 'Merlin couldn't possibly be powerful' filter that Arthur, Gwen, Morgana, the knights, and well everyone that doesn't know about his magic seems to have.


	8. Reaction

**ARTHUR**

Five times. Mordred directly disobeyed my orders five times in the past few days. I’m not counting the time he punched me. He refused to turn back five times. The first, he forcibly dragged me towards Camelot. The second, we ran at each other with swords for an hour before he relented. I was obligated to stay with him on principle; I don’t have many knights who could last that long against me. The third, he stole my horse, so I had to give chase. The fourth, we argued until our voices were hoarse, and he reminded me of my duty. The fifth, he just sighed and continued riding.

“Why are you so loyal to him?” I ask, still refusing to say the man’s name.

“I’m loyal to you, sire. Merlin may have once saved my life, but he only trusts me because he has no other choice.”

I stop my horse. “You speak of him like you respect him, like he’s someone to look up to.”

Like he doesn’t have … that.

Mordred stops too. He meets my eyes with an odd apprehension. “Sire, are you aware of my history?”

“Aside from how we met in Ismere, no.”

“We didn’t meet there.”

“Right, you mentioned that you owed me. I can’t say I remember meeting you before that. Surely, I would’ve remembered someone as skilled with a sword as you.”

“I had never used one before when we first met. I was only a child. You, Merlin, Morgana, Gaius, and Queen Guinevere saved my life.” He smiles. “You smuggled me out of Camelot yourself.”

Oh. “You’re that druid boy.” The age certainly matches.

Mordred nods. “The druids, we had a prophecy about two men who would bring about a Golden Age of Albion, the Once and Future King, and Emrys, the most powerful sorcerer to ever live. I’ve known who Emrys is since the day I arrived in Camelot. He was the first to save me, not hesitating to help a child. I’ve known who the Once and Future King is since the day I left. He was the one who defied his father and delivered me to my people.”

That’s ridiculous.

“You think I’m this King because I saved an innocent?” I can’t help my incredulity.

“I know it because Emrys does and because you’ve proven yourself to be the King that Albion needs.”

I shake my head. “And what, you think I need a sorcerer’s help to unite Albion?” Which is an impossibility in itself. “What sorcerer would even be mad enough to try helping a Pendragon?”

“The same who is the last dragonlord; ordered Morgana’s dragon away to protect us; held an extremely taxing aging spell; summoned the White Goddess, an impossible feat for even the most powerful; and managed all that while physically exhausted and injured. There’s a reason I listened to his order to not tell you about what you forgot, but that’s the last time I prioritise Emrys’s authority over yours.”

But… But that could only be…

“Merlin?” I choke out.

Mordred sighs. “I wouldn’t have reacted so badly when you found the three of us if it was anyone else, but Merlin… I know he has magic, extremely powerful magic at that, but there is no other who has dedicated so much of their life to you and Camelot. Of that, I have no doubt.”

“Then why would he turn to magic?” I shout. “Why would he betray me like that? Why would he release the Great Dragon? Why would he just leave?”

“According to the prophecies, Emrys is a warlock. He was born with magic. I don’t know why he released the dragon. I’m not even sure if he has a good reason; we’re not exactly friends who talk about these things.” Mordred starts riding. “I don’t mean any disrespect by this, sire, but you left him first. I believe Emrys was sparing you the guilt by leaving.”

I spur my horse forward to catch up. “Why are you telling me this? Did he just leave you behind as some messenger? Has this prophecy nonsense gone to his head?”

Is he even this Emrys? He might have magic, but the most powerful sorcerer to ever live? Please. This is the same man who can’t last one hunting trip without falling on his face.

“I doubt Emrys would want me to tell you anything. He only cares that I look out for magical threats and send him a message if you’re dying from one. I’ve already said that I’m loyal to you, sire. It’s my duty to inform my King of potential threats to Camelot.”

“And you think _Mer_ lin is a threat?”

“I think that anyone who has been wronged enough can change allegiances. If there’s anything I’ve learned during my time in Camelot, it’s that Emrys is a man like any other. He has his strengths and he has his limits.”

“You think I’ve pushed him beyond that point?”

“I do not know.” Mordred meets my eyes. “But I’m not the one who knows him best.”

“Well that man left too.”

No goodbye, just a folded red cloak and _Sorry, Princess_ scrawled on a bit of parchment. One of my best Knight’s and he doesn’t hesitate to follow a sorcerer over his King. I always knew Gwaine only joined the cause because of Merlin, but I thought I’d earned his loyalty. Then again, I thought I knew Merlin, thought he was my friend, that they both were. Guess I was wrong.

“I wasn’t talking about Gwaine,” Mordred mutters.

I almost ask if it was Gaius then, but I catch Mordred’s expression.

I force back a laugh. He really thinks I know Merlin best? The only thing I know about that traitor, is that he has magic. All this Emrys nonsense, well that’s just druidic prophecy. I promised to respect their beliefs and not prosecute the magicless druids, but that doesn’t mean I have to believe the ridiculousness. It certainly doesn’t excuse Merlin’s crimes. He knowingly used magic in Camelot and against the King. I may not be able to follow him to Nemeth without a political incident, but the next time he steps foot into Camelot, he will pay for his crimes.

I wish I never noticed he was missing. Things were a lot smoother without that traitorous disaster of an ex-servant around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of including Gwaine and Mordred POVs. Merlin/Arthur are getting to their peak stubborn points, so it might be interesting to see them from an outside perspective.


	9. Confrontation

**GWAINE**

Merlin’s been acting odd. I don’t mean in the ‘just had his life turned on its head’ way. He spent an hour yesterday arguing with Princess Mithian until he managed to convince her to go ahead to her castle. Then, he insisted we circle back three different times, taking a different route each time. I finally give in and ask if he thinks we’re being followed.

Merlin stops suddenly and grabs my sleeve. “Don’t mention it,” he hisses quietly. Merlin laughs. “I think you’re being paranoid, Gwaine,” he says louder.

That’s a definite yes.

“You’re right. Who’d even bother following us anyway?”

Merlin looks like his calculating how to tell me exactly who without saying it.

He shakes his head with another laugh. “Maybe some tavern owner you didn’t pay.”

Arthur always thought Merlin was at the tavern when he was actually dealing with a magical threat.

“I’ll have you know that I paid for my last drinks at the Rising Sun.”

“How noble of you.”

A noble magical threat then… Morgana.

“I know.”

Merlin’s smile turns genuine and he nods a little.

No wonder he’s been on edge.

“When are we going to make camp?” I ask.

When’s she going to attack?

“A little after sunset.” Merlin locks eyes on me. “It’s best to do it in the cover of the night.”

“Not earlier?”

“Too risky. Might draw unwanted attention. Someone is more likely to stumble on the campsite during daylight.”

“We’d be able to handle them fine.”

“Still a chance of a report getting out.”

I shrug. “Suppose you’re right. You usually are.”

Merlin grins, breaking the tension. “If only Arthur ever realised that.”

“We wouldn’t be here if he did.”

Merlin’s smile falters. “You can-.”

“I’m not leaving you, Merlin.”

“I could always leave in the middle of the night.”

“You haven’t yet.”

Merlin ducks his head. “I already took away his choice. I’m not doing the same to you.”

“We both know what would’ve happened if you did it any other way. Didn’t Gaius teach you that clean breaks are better?”

“His trust has been broken so many times though. I might’ve been the final break to stop it from ever recovering.”

“As far as I’m concerned, that’s a good thing. Princess has an unfortunate habit of trusting spies and assassins.”

“But Uther trusted no one and look at what he turned into.” He shakes his head suddenly, a wry smile forming. “Actually, I’m pretty sure the only person he truly trusted was Morgana. Arthur was never wrong about their father’s favouritism, even when nobody knew about her royal blood. Yet Uther drove her away with his hatred and guilt channelled into tyranny.”

I stop walking. “Guilt?”

Merlin trips on nothing and spins around, eyes wide. He glances around, and his expression hardens into an odd mix of determination and resignation.

“The real reason he started the Great Purge was because he ignored the price of magic. A life for a life. Ygraine for Arthur. He wouldn’t have been born if it wasn’t for Uther and Nimueh’s deal. Morgause told Arthur the truth once. I convinced him it was a lie, so he wouldn’t kill Uther. I’m the reason Arthur distrusts magic so much. All because I didn’t want him to get the throne that way, because I couldn’t bear to let Arthur carry the weight of his actions through his reign. Morgause only changed to recruiting Morgana after that plan failed.”

I internally pump my fist into the air. “You don’t think she would’ve helped her dear sister with her magic if the Arthur route had worked?”

“I know for a fact that Morgana only started caring about claiming her place on the throne after Morgause convinced her of it. Before that, all Morgana cared about was killing Uther and getting revenge on me. She only saw Arthur as an enemy after Morgause put him in her way.”

“Morgause was good at manipulating Pendragons.”

Merlin goes to smile but seems to just sink in on himself. “Morgause wouldn’t have done so much damage if I had trusted them more. I should’ve trusted Morgana to fight her destiny and trusted Arthur to be ready for his.”

“How long have you known she’d turn?”

Merlin looks positively apologetic. “Since my first year in Camelot. I once saw her almost kill Uther at Gorlois’ grave.” He laughs. “I almost didn’t bother going after her. It was Gwen who convinced me to do it, not that she knows. Then, right when the moment came, Morgana chose to save him. I thought then that her destiny was a lie, but when Morgause marched into Camelot with the Knights of Medhir… Morgana was the source of the sleeping spell. If I didn’t stop it, Arthur would’ve died. Uther would’ve died. I had no guarantee that Morgause wouldn’t slaughter everyone. I still don’t know if Morgana knew what would happen when she turned to her half-sister for help. She had made her choice, so I made mine.”

I sling my arm around Merlin’s shoulders, as if the action would protect him from the sorceress’ glare, and start walking again. “Did she know what the stakes were?”

“In her eyes, I poisoned my friend because I hated magic, despite the fact that I kept her secret for months, almost a year if you count knowing she was a seer shortly after I got to Camelot. The problem was I didn’t really acknowledge it much. Arthur thought I had feelings for her and was paying too much attention to how much time I spend with her. I tried to send her to the druids for support, then when that fell through I didn’t stick around to support her. Maybe if I had helped her explore her magic, she wouldn’t have fallen to Morgause’s bait and trap.”

Thunder crackles in the distance

Merlin rolls his eyes. “Like with the letting her emotions fuel her magic thing,” he whispers. “That’s against the first rule of controlling magic. I learnt it after dealing with Nimueh”

“Magic can control the weather?”  
“You wouldn’t believe the things one can do with enough power and a few muttered words,” he whispers conspiratorially.  

“You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen with enough ale and a few thrown punches,” I whisper back.

Merlin’s grin is infectious. “Tell me about it,” he says at a normal volume.

I spin a tale involving five horses, four silver coins, three castle guards, two pigs, and a literal balancing act. Every time I catch Merlin checking the sun’s position, I add another layer of ridiculousness to keep him smiling. By the time Morgana steps out of the shadows, we’re both so caught up in the story, that we just burst into laughter.

“You were right!” I exclaim, clapping Merlin on the back and releasing him from my hold.

Merlin takes one look between the disgruntled sorceress and me, before giggling, actually giggling. “What’s with High Priestesses and being so painfully predictable?”

Morgana lets her eyes flash gold, a cruel sneer warping her face. “Well, the rumours are true,” she says. “The little Merlin has finally left Arthur. Or did he leave you? I’m a little unclear on that.”

“Course you are,” Merlin says. “You were busing being knocked out after you underestimated Mordred’s loyalty to the Greatest Prat in all of Albion.”

“Mordred will see Arthur’s true colours soon enough.”

I laugh. “Well, he already punched Princess in the face, but still stuck around. If that’s not loyalty, I don’t know what is.”

“And yet here you are, _Sir_ Gwaine, trapezing through Nemeth with Arthur’s ex-manservant. Don’t think for a second that I don’t know about that.” She smiles and steps forward. “So where is your famous loyalty, Gwaine? Whatever happened to the man who played my pet to get Gaius some food?”

I reach for my sword, but Merlin grips my arm. He shakes his head once. Right, a sword won’t do much good here.

“My loyalty hasn’t wavered for a moment.”

Morgana scoffs. “You’re loyal to this useless excuse for an ex-servant?”

“I’m loyal to the man who gave my life direction, who convinced Princess that noble blood doesn’t matter.”

She turns her glare on Merlin. “And where has your loyalty gone? You were always more loyal to Arthur than anything else.”

Merlin shrugs. “Guess I wanted a career change. I washed one too many of Arthur’s socks.”

“You’re lying.”

“Am I? Does it really matter? You’re either going to try and kill us right now or get bored and go back to terrorising Camelot anyway.”

“Nobody’s going anywhere until I get some answers from you for once, _Mer_ lin. Why have you left Camelot? Why have you left Arthur? What could he possibly have done to lose even you?”  
I laugh. “She really doesn’t know, does she?”

Merlin catches my eye and relaxes. “No, I don’t think she does.”

“What are you talking about?” Morgana shouts.

“Did you really think for one second that Merlin of all people would leave Arthur?”

Morgana stares at Merlin in disbelief. “But… But he left you.”

Merlin saunters toward her. “Did he? Are you sure? Why’d you think Arthur doesn’t know exactly what we’re doing here, so far away from his castle? Or did you forget about the only person who could’ve summoned the White Goddess? Tell me, Morgana. When was the last time you saw Emrys?”

“How do you know that name?”

“Gaius knows. Why wouldn’t I?” Merlin stops right in front of Morgana, his arms causally looped behind his back, somehow looking smug in front of the woman who could kill him without a word. “Who said Arthur doesn’t know him too? He did after all ask for Emrys’s help. And not just at the Cauldron, but other times too. So why would you seriously think that Arthur would send his best friend and best knight alone into Nemeth?”

I catch the glint of iron in Merlin’s hands and force myself to not smirk.

“Emrys,” Morgana breathes. “He’s here, isn’t he? This was a trap. All that nonsense about Arthur over the past two days was to lure me in, wasn’t it?”

Merlin smiles. “Careful, Morgana. You’re starting to sound as paranoid as your father.”

She bristles, stepping into Merlin’s space. “I am nothing like him.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” I say, drawing her eyes away from Merlin.

She opens her mouth to retort but snaps it shut with a squeak.

“Gotcha,” Merlin taunts, stepping back to reveal the cold iron cuffs on her wrists.

Morgana lunges at him with a yell. I draw my sword, shove Merlin aside and point my blade at her heart.

“I wouldn’t,” I warn.

“You think this will hold me?” Morgana shouts. “I am a High Priestess of the Old Religion. I was chosen by the Triple Goddess herself. I-.”

“Will hear the same thing I last told Arthur.” Merlin smiles. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?

Morgana scoffs. “I highly doubt the words of a servant-.”

“Swefe nu.”

Morgana’s eyes roll back. Merlin makes no move to catch her like he did Arthur.

“Well, that’s one way to shut Pendragons up.”

He flashes a grin. “Now we just need to get Arthur’s sword to finish the job.”

I blink twice and lower my own sword. “His what?”

“I sort of forged it in a dragon’s breath. I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing that could kill a witch of Morgana’s power.”

I don’t mention how reluctant he sounded last time he mentioned having to do that one day.

“How are we going to get Arthur’s sword from here?”

Merlin shrugs. “Maybe Mithian could extend a royal invitation. He won’t know that we’re in her castle. We can just sneak into the guest chambers in the middle of the night, grab his sword and leave him a dead Morgana at his door.”

“Like a cat leaving gifts for its owner.”

“What could possibly go wrong?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I personally think saying that last line aloud should be illegal. Didn’t think things would be solved this easily, did you?


	10. Invitation

**MORDRED**

Emrys is an idiot. If the druid seers truly witnessed what he would become, then they must be liars. Their prophecies must have become twisted by time and a desperate need for peace. Their visions must have been clouded and plagued by sudden shifts like a novice’s. There is no way they could have possibly seen this utter mess of a bond between king and advisor and decided that Merlin would bring magic back to all of Albion. He may be the most powerful sorcerer to ever live, even though his skill comes from raw talent, one measly magic book, and if I’m right, a disgruntled old dragon, but quite frankly, his limited number of known spells is downright alarming; the man can’t even teleport.

When I advised Emrys to come clean with Arthur, I didn’t in any way mean for him to knock the King out with a sleeping spell and leave me to deal with the mess. I obviously didn’t hesitate to help my King, and it’s nice to have some long overdue gratitude from Emrys for once, but that’s beside the point. Making himself an enemy of Camelot was the worst possible choice. Merlin should have used some of his prophesised wisdom and not acted so rashly. No wonder he and Arthur get along so well. They’re both masters of impulsive decisions.

Speaking of, I hope this royal invitation from Nemeth isn’t another of Emrys’s travesties of a plan. Arthur sits at the Round Table with it in hand, a mix of surprise, annoyance, anger, and most interestingly, hope, warring in his eyes.

“Princess Mithian requests my presence at her castle. She claims it is an overdue thank you for aiding Nemeth in their fight against Morgana.”

“You don’t think she’s being honest?” Leon asks.

The Queen raises an eyebrow at this and tilts her head towards Arthur expectantly.

The King sighs. “There is something I need to tell you all, which is never to leave this room.”

“About where Sir Gwaine and Merlin are, I presume,” Gaius says, barely hiding his own feelings on the matter.

“I thought they had gone on a quest of some sort,” Percival admits. “Gwaine seems to have gone on a few with Merlin.”

“They’re not on a quest,” Arthur says. “Or at least not in an official capacity for Camelot.”

“Did you send your servant on a secret quest to Nemeth?” Geoffroy asks.

“Merlin’s not my servant.”

Guinevere smiles. “Of course, Arthur. We all know he’s more than just that. He’s a friend.”

“No.” Arthur drops his mask and lets some anger leak through. “He’s not that either. Merlin resigned as my manservant. Gwaine … handed over his cloak. They were last seen heading for Nemeth after Merlin…”

“After Merlin did what, my lord?” Gaius spits out. “What did he do after you drove him to leave Camelot, after you used him as one of your closest advisors for ten years and then had the tenacity to abandon him, after all that you have done and said to that man without care for his wellbeing?”

“What’s he talking about?” Guinevere asks.

“Do not speak to our King that way!” Leon shouts.

“Why’d Gwaine leave too?” Percival asks.

Arthur clenches the edge of the table, halfway between shouting at everyone to shut up and standing to leave.

“Do you wish for me to tell them, sire?” I ask. Arthur nods. Everyone’s eyes turn to me. “Merlin used a sleeping spell on King Arthur and fled Camelot, with no intention to ever return. He felt slighted after his majesty left Merlin behind at the Cauldron of Arianrhod, where the warlock, for he was born with magic and didn’t choose it, disguised himself and rid the Queen of Morgana’s enchantments, before passing out from both magical and physical exhaustion in close proximity to where Morgana and her dragon were last seen.”

The room erupts into yelling, mostly of disbelief, and some anger. Emrys may have wanted to leave our King believing in the evil of magic, but I will not allow him to ruin hundreds of years of prophecy on a whim.

Arthur stares at me in shock. “He was born with it? He … he was the Dolma?”

Everyone stops and turns between me and him.

“Yes. I told him to tell you, but I didn’t expect him to use his magic against you to do so.”

“Did Gwaine know?” Guinevere asks slowly. “Did Merlin tell him?”

“Merlin told him the day they left in an attempt to convince Gwaine to stay,” I answer. “That was mere hours before he told, or rather showed, King Arthur. I believed he conjured a flower to show the former knight.”

Gwaine was one of the only knights to accept me with open arms and not claim that I’m too young. I wonder if he would’ve accepted my magic as well.

“The flower?” Arthur asks. “The one behind Merlin’s ear?”

“Gwaine put it there.”

“He found out that his best friend was keeping that big of a secret and his first reaction was to put a flower behind the traitor’s ear?”

Both the Queen and Percival wince at the word traitor. Perhaps there’s hope after all.

“His first thought was to hug Merlin,” I say.

“You think my reaction was unwarranted?”

“I think Merlin should’ve come clean with you, all of you, years ago. Your reaction from how he did is understandable. You’re the King of Camelot, a kingdom that’s greatest threat is a magic-user. And Merlin, he’s the greatest sorcerer to ever live.”

Gaius scowls. “You shouldn’t openly say that. Morgana’s been hunting Emrys for years. She once had me tortured to find out the warlock’s identity.”

Arthur turns to the physician. “You told me that was about the safety of Camelot.”

“For goodness sake, Arthur. Merlin has been protecting this kingdom for ten years from magical and non-magical threats alike. If you want to blame someone for him keeping that a secret, then blame me. I was the one who advised him against telling anyone. It’s bad enough that enemies of Camelot have almost killed Merlin hundreds of times over. If they were to find out that he was Emrys and that he thinks you, a Pendragon, is the Once and Future King, he’d be dead within a week. He may have more magic than anyone else, but he’s woefully undereducated in the subject.”

“So you admit to harbouring a sorcerer?”

Gaius lifts his chin. “I admit for looking after the only reason any of us are having this conversation, the only reason we were ever able to take Camelot back from both Morgause and Morgana, and the only reason any of us are alive. I guarantee you that Merlin has saved each of your lives with or without you knowing it.”

“Then why didn’t he just tell me that?” Arthur yells.  “Why did he knock me out and run away? Why didn’t he just explain?”

“Because he wanted you to hate him,” I answer quietly. I notice the King pale slightly. “Merlin believed that if you hated him, you wouldn’t waste time and resources following him. You wouldn’t have backed down until he came home, but he truly believed that he no longer had a place in Camelot. Merlin didn’t want you to worry, so he did the only thing he thought he could. He made himself into a monster in your eyes.”

Gaius flinches. “It took me weeks to convince Merlin that he wasn’t a monster for being born with magic, that he wasn’t inherently evil.”

Any last remnants of outrage fades from the room. It’s somewhat … reassuring to know Emrys faced the same fears that I did, even if no magic-user should ever have to.

“So he didn’t release the Great Dragon?” Arthur asks. “Saying that was just to make me angry?”          

Gaius shakes his head. “I’m afraid that was among Merlin’s biggest mistakes. Kilgharrah forced him to swear on Hunith’s life to release the dragon, after he told Merlin how to break the sleeping curse that Morgause cast over Camelot. You should know that the Great Dragon lives; you did not slay him. Balinor was Merlin’s father, something I only told him the day the two of you left to find the dragonlord. When Balinor died, he passed his gift onto Merlin. Merlin couldn’t bring himself to kill his last connection to his father, so he ordered Kilgharrah to never attack Camelot again.”

“What of Morgana’s dragon?” Leon asks, surprisingly subdued considering I know he rode out to face this Kilgharrah.

“Merlin hatched Aithusa three years ago,” Gaius answers. “Neither of us know how she became malformed and loyal to Morgana.”

“I think,” Guinevere starts. “I think these are the kinds of questions you should ask Merlin himself.”

“And how am I meant to do that?” Arthur asks. “I don’t know where in Nemeth they are or even if they’re still there. For all we know, Morgana’s already found and killed them.”

“Merlin has never lost a fight with her before,” Gaius says.

Geoffrey clears his throat. “If I may, sire. Perhaps accepting this invitation from Princess Mithian will give you an opportunity to resolve this problem.”

Arthur turns to Gaius. “Do you think Merlin will let himself and Gwaine be found?”

Gaius smiles. “I think Merlin has a habit of making friends with nobles and royalty.”

“Then Sir Mordred and I will go. I need Sirs Leon and Percival here in the event of an attack, and Sir Mordred is the most knowledgeable on the druidic prophecy that claims Merlin is my best advisor or something ridiculous like that.”

Guinevere lets out a short laugh. “Forgive me, Arthur, but without Merlin’s advice, I doubt you would’ve grown from an arrogant prince to the King we all love today.”

“And you’re okay with his magic?”

“Like I said, I think it’s best to get answers from the source before we make any decisions on the matter. As it stands, he did remove Morgana’s enchantment over me. So for now, I am merely grateful.”

Arthur smiles fondly. “Right then. I’ll send word ahead to Nemeth and we can go find out whether Merlin’s some secret great hero or a murderous sorcerer.”

See, Emrys. This is what happens when you have a rational conversation instead of running away from your problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep in mind that Merlin’s literally waiting to kill Morgana in her sleep right now.


	11. Relaxation

**MERLIN**

It’s so strange to be in a castle and not worry about cleaning it. I keep my own guest chambers clean, of course, unlike my old room in Camelot. But that’s so the servants here don’t go through my stuff. I know from experience how fun it is to rifle through guests’ things, which I definitely only did when they were acting suspicious, and certainly not to gossip with Gwen in the good old days.

I thought Camelot’s castle was the second most beautiful thing in Albion (behind the Lake of Avalon obviously), but Nemeth… Camelot felt so suffocating because I couldn’t use my magic; at least I thought it was just that. I never realised a castle could be so open, so airy, so spacious. Sure, it’s easier to seize because of it, but as long as I’m here, I won’t let that happen. I may have sworn my loyalty to Camelot and its King. That doesn’t mean I won’t protect such a beautiful kingdom as well. I mean, Nemeth will be part of a United Albion one day, so it’s not splitting my loyalty or anything.

The best thing though, is using my magic so freely. At first, it was just unnerving to be treated like nobility here. Mithian declared Gwaine and me Friends of the Princess on our arrival. Apparently, that gives us a degree of protection once Arthur shows up. But the magic… Gods, I never imagined what it’d be like to stop a falling plate in the middle of a dinner with royalty and be thanked for it. Thanked! Gwaine’s been giving me weird looks. I asked about it, and he just said it’s weird to see me so happy all the time.

“I’m always smiling though.”

Gwaine shakes his head. “I honestly didn’t think your grins could get wider. It’s not just that. You seem lighter somehow. Makes sense, being able to use your beautiful magic now.”

I stop mid-stride. “Beautiful?”

Nobody’s called my magic that before.

Gwaine loops his arm around my shoulders and keeps walking. “Obviously. Both of our chambers have been covered in flowers every morning we’ve been here, Merlin.”

“I didn’t mean-.”

“I’m not complaining. It’s not like you’ve ever turned my sword into a flower before.”

I laugh. “You should’ve seen your face. I had to stop myself from laughing aloud back then. Guess I was too worried you overheard him call me Magic.”

“Oh, I heard him alright. But you didn’t mention it, so I just figured you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“You knew I had magic back then?”

“Nah, just thought you were really mischievous. I mean Princess got called Courage and I got called Strength. It just kind of fit that magic would be playful, at least the nature of it.”

“Well… I have pranked Arthur a couple of times. All of it was for his own good, of course. Had to make sure the prat didn’t get too full of himself.”

Princess Mithian glides up to us. “You mean like when you tried sabotaging our picnic?”

I shrug. “It wouldn’t have been fair on you, Arthur or Gwen if that marriage went through. Arthur still loved her, and as much as you two would’ve fit, his heart already belonged to Gwen.”

“I know that now, even if I was … annoyed at the time.”

Gwaine smiles. “Didn’t you almost go to war with u- Camelot over it?”

I stiffen at his slip up. Gwaine squeezes my shoulder.

Princess Mithian shrugs. “I admit I could have handled the situation better, but the dispute over Gedref and my public embarrassment made it more difficult to control my emotions at the time.”

“Well Princess, I mean, Arthur, has a habit of making people mad by being his usual entitled self.”

“He’s still a great King,” I point out.

“Yes, I’m sure you’ll still be saying that if he forgets to bring Excalibur.”

“He’s hardly going to forget his most beautiful sword on a royal visit.”

Princess Mithian raises an eyebrow. “And would this sword have anything to do with our visitor in the dungeons?”

I wait for a servant to pass before nodding. “It’ll make your guest a temporary one. We’re heading down to wake her up and have a little chat now. Would you like to see your old captor in chains?”

“Best not to give her too much information about her current whereabouts. Should she escape-.”

“She won’t.”

“ _Should_ she escape, for I’m not going to rule the possibility out, I’d rather she not take her anger out on the people of Nemeth again.”

Gwaine bows low, dragging me down with him. “Not to worry, your majesty. We’ll be sure to brag with the highest level of discretion.”

I scoff. “What he means, is she’ll be too busy trying to curse us to worry about whose dungeons she’s in.”

“I’ll be sure to send a servant to inform you when King Arthur arrives. We expect him before sunset.”

With that, Princess Mithian strides away, her gown billowing behind her.

Gwaine lets me stand up properly and I scowl at him.

“Don’t be like that, Merlin. So, I got a little used to referring to Camelot as us. I was a red-clad knight for several years. It’s hard to break that habit.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“You’re right. Arthur shouldn’t have driven my best friend out of his home.”

“It’s not-.”

“Camelot will always be our home, my friend, whether you ever feel welcome there again or not.”

I let my eyes burn gold as we enter the dungeons. “Somehow, I don’t see that happening, ever.”

“We caught Morgana pretty easily. Who’s to say things with Princess won’t work out just the same?”

“Only every other occasion Arthur’s been betrayed and his immediate reaction.”

Gwaine shrugs. “You didn’t betray him for being born with magic.”

“No, just for hiding it for ten years.”

I step out of Gwaine’s hold and up to Morgana’s cell. The Nemethian guards cleared out the moment we got here, more attentive than the rubbish lot Camelot have. I mentally reach out to Morgana’s cuffs to make sure they’re still supressing her magic, only then do I release the sleeping spell. Morgana snaps her eyes open and leaps to her feet, eyes narrowing first at the bars separating us, and then at me.

“Merlin.”

“Morgana.”

“Gwaine.”

I blink at him.

Gwaine holds his hands up. “What? Was I meant to wait for someone else to say my name? What’s the protocol here? I haven’t been to many magic-user verbal spars.”

I shake my head. “Just stand there and look tough.”

Gwaine grins and draws his sword. “That I can do.”

Morgana snarls. “What are you two imbeciles doing here? Where’s Emrys?”

I tilt my head to the side. “Emrys?”

“Yes, he was obviously the one to use the sleeping spell on me. Now, where is he? Why has he sent you two buffoons in his place?”

I stifle a snort of laughter. Gwaine most certainly does not.

“Didn’t you see Merlin’s eyes, you blind witch?” he asks.

Morgana scoffs. “Yes, interesting trick that. I never thought you could make it look like someone else was casting a spell. It’ll be nice to try another day. Now, where is your master? Where’s Emrys? Or my idiot of a brother for that matter?”

“Are you truly that blind, Morgana?” I ask. “Or perhaps dropped on your head as a babe?”

“I am a High Priestess-.”

My eyes burn gold. Purple flames erupt from the torches.

“AND I AM EMRYS, WARLOCK TO THE ONCE AND FUTURE KING, MASTER OF LIFE AND DEATH, AND THE LAST DRAGONLORD. YOU WILL NOT DOUBT ME, MORGANA PENDRAGON!”

The flames take the shape of the Pendragon crest and flicker out.

I step closer to her cell and flick my hand. The bars jump aside and let me stride right up to the arrogant witch.

“Or are you so blind that you cannot recognise the man who will kill you? Perhaps if I cast an aging spell on myself,” I mimic Dragoon’s voice, “you may finally see when your doom is close at hand.”

Morgana flinches away. “You’re not. You can’t be. I would have known! I would’ve seen you in my visions! You’re lying! This is some twisted trick! You are not Emrys!”

“Seen me stand over a field of dead bodies, you mean? I have no interest in ever seeing Camlann, Morgana. Destiny and fate have been wrong before. They say Arthur will bring magic back, but we both know that will never happen. There can be no fall of the Golden Age if we never truly reach it.”

Morgana throws her head back and laughs. “Oh, now I understand. You truly are him, but you have failed, Emrys. You have failed your destiny. You’ve lost Arthur, haven’t you? The man you were so determined to prove to be the Greatest King of Albion. You finally saw that our Arthur has no chance of reaching his destiny. All because you failed to lead him there. You put your faith in him, but forgot one important thing, something I’ve always known.” She leans forward and smirks. “Arthur will always be Uther’s son. His hatred of magic knows no bounds. You can threaten me all you want, torture me even. It won’t make you feel better. It won’t change things. He will always hate magic, always hate you. You should’ve stayed dead when we left you in that serket nest. It’s not like your life has any meaning, any purpose, without your precious Arthur to follow around.”

She looks resolutely beyond me, mimicking the noble dismissal she once used.

“Last I checked, I was still destined to kill you, Morgana. And once I get the right weapon back for the task, I’ll be sure to fulfil at least that part of fate.”

I mutter the sleeping spell once more, step back and magic the bars back into place.

Gwaine goes to sheathe his sword but stops mid-motion. He whirls around and points it at the man behind us. I roll my eyes and conjure a flame in my hand, slowing turning around.

“Who’s stupid enough to sneak up on-” The flame dissipates. “Arthur?”

The King points Excalibur at me. “Emrys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a positive note, Arthur brought the sword that can kill Morgana. Yay! On a negative note, Arthur's pointing the sword that can kill Merlin at said warlock.


	12. Transgression

**ARTHUR**

Princess Mithian isn’t good at keeping secrets. It helps that the moment we arrived at her castle, Mordred pulled me aside and muttered “Emrys is here.”

Apparently, it’s impossible for druids not to sense his presence, but the way Mordred sounded so sure, means Emrys or Merlin, whoever he is, is using his magic openly. I know the laws in Nemeth are different, but still… Even with the one time I saw those blue eyes flash gold, it’s hard to imagine the Merlin I knew using magic. But that’s the problem. I clearly didn’t know him well enough. Not if he’s been keeping saving the whole bloody kingdom on multiple occasions from me. That’s the kind of thing someone brags about. I don’t know how I feel that he never did.

“You’ve a beautiful castle,” I say, though it has nothing on Camelot. “Is it hosting any other guests?”

Mithian tenses for the briefest moment, but it doesn’t escape my notice.

“Guests aside from yourselves, no. Though we do have an interesting prisoner you’ll want to see later tonight.”

It’s obvious in her tone that she wasn’t expecting us so early. I don’t envy her position, but I don’t like being lied to either.

“Oh? Who’ve you managed to capture?”

“I’m afraid Nemeth wasn’t directly involved in this great feat, but two bounty hunters who were passing through.” Merlin and Gwaine then. Mithian smiles. “We have in our dungeons, the former Lady of Camelot, Morgana Pendragon.” She keeps walking, even as both Mordred and I are shocked frozen. “You can understand why we invited you to Nemeth, your majesty.”

I catch up to her. “And you’re sure you have her properly restrained? Her magic is capable of bringing down a castle when she’s angry. If she knows where she is and escapes, she won’t hesitate to punish your people for-.”

“I am well aware of that, Arthur. The men who are interrogating her right now have sworn to not reveal our location. She and her magic and adequately restrained. This is the first time she’s even woken since she was brought here right before I sent for you.”

“A sleeping spell,” I mutter. “Merlin’s using another damn sleeping spell? He thinks that’s good enough to restrain my sister? Is he really that much of an idiot?”

Mithian doesn’t miss a beat. “The magic supressing cuffs were taken from Camelot’s vaults. If there is any fault in them, it is not his fault. I do not approve of his methods of acquiring them, though perhaps Camelot could invest some time in training the guards if a mere servant, sorcerer or not, is capable of so easily sneaking past them.”

“They’re here, then? Merlin and Gwaine are here? You’re harbouring them?”

“They are Friends of the Crown. I don’t take saving my life lightly. Besides, delivering Morgana Pendragon was a most gracious gift. One that I hoped to share with you, as your kingdom has also suffered from her destruction.”

Mordred clears his throat. “Perhaps, sire, this is an opportunity to get some answers from Merlin.”

I turn to Mithian. “They’re in the dungeons, then? Show me.”

She nods. “As valuable as having both of them here would be to Nemeth, I would much prefer if the sorcerer’s and knight’s loyalties weren’t split between my kingdom and yours. It is obvious that they already greatly miss Camelot.”

If they miss it so much, then they shouldn’t have left.

Mithian leads us to the dungeons, calling up various servants and sending them this way and that without a single one hesitating. What it must be like to have one’s servants perform their duties without question. Not that I’ll ever have to worry about that again. I’m not arrogant enough to believe Merlin would ever return to his job. He’ll have a full head because of all this using magic freely nonsense. And the second he walks into Camelot, I’ll have to charge him for sorcery, attacking his king, and sentence him to death.

Because when has Merlin ever made things simple?

Mithian stops me with a sharp glare before I can storm down the stairs.

“Charging down there and attacking him will solve no problems. I expect all four of you to dine with my father and me tonight. If you can’t behave like adults and have a proper discussion, I’ll be hosting your knights at our table, and sending yourself and Merlin to eat with the horses. Are we clear, Arthur Pendragon?”

If Guinevere wasn’t the love of my life, I’ve no doubt Mithian would’ve been a perfect Queen of Camelot.

“Yes, Princess.”

“Good.”

I turn to Mordred. “Stay here for now. Merlin’s less likely to overreact if it’s just me.”

Mordred clearly disagrees, but like a proper knight, he nods and follows my orders anyway.

Perhaps I should’ve had him training Gwaine and not the other way around.

I walk down the steps slowly, unwilling to give away my position. It takes every ounce of self-control to not draw my sword, but I manage it anyway.

That is until I hear their conversation. My sword’s out before I can even process the sheer anger in Merlin’s voice.

“Destiny and fate have been wrong before. They say Arthur will bring magic back, but we both know that will never happen. There can be no fall of the Golden Age if we never truly reach it.”

Morgana taunts him back, far too smug considering her position, but it’s Merlin’s words that keep ringing through my head. For all that Mordred and Gaius agreed that Merlin places his destiny above all else, does he truly not believe in my part anymore? I hadn’t even considered it with everything else I was learning, but now… Merlin has called me the Once and Future King before. I know it. He’s praised me and said I would be the Greatest King in all of Albion. I thought then that he truly believed it. It always astonished me that he could go from calling me a prat one moment to looking at me like I hung the stars themselves the next. But this… He truly has no faith, no hope that I could even consider repealing the ban on magic.

Then he speaks again, and I can’t help stepping forward, can’t help the overwhelming urge to strike this man down because the Merlin I know would never speak so coldly, never say those words.

“Last I checked, I was still destined to kill you, Morgana. And once I get the right weapon back for the task, I’ll be sure to fulfil at least that part of fate.”

Merlin mutters that all-too-familiar sleeping spell and actually steps back, easily making the bars jump back into place. I flinch at the blatant display of magic, my sword barely knocking into the wall. Merlin must hear me because he whirls around, eyes a burning gold to match the flames dancing in his hands.

“Who’s stupid enough to-.” Merlin’s eyes lock on mine, and an impossible fear blooms there, even as they fade to bloom and the fire blinks out. “Arthur?”

I never thought I’d hear him sound so broken over my name, but all that rage, all that absolute fury at being lied to, it crashes into me at once.

I point my sword at his heart. “Emrys.”

Suppose I’ll be eating with the horses tonight, because there’s no way I’m talking with this man, this monster who wears the face of my closest friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t you hate it when someone uses Multi-POV to write two different lead ups to the same point then leaves it there in both chapters? In all fairness, this is the most natural pausing point. Plus, an outside POV would work best for the next bit, so Gwaine will be up for the next chapter (no lead up this time, promise).


	13. Conversation

**GWAINE**

I look from Merlin to Arthur and back again. They both seem ready to kill the other, though I know for sure that Merlin never would. Arthur on the other hand… There’s only one way I could possibly defuse this tension.

“Gwaine,” I say loudly.

Merlin bursts into laughter, folding over himself and glaring at me. “Really, Gwaine? Again?”

“Well, if you and the Pendragons refuse to say my name in greeting, I’ve got to do it myself.”

Merlin leans against me, shaking his head, and recovering his breath.

Arthur lowers his sword a little, that blinding fury of his mostly faded.

“How is it that you can go from threatening to murder my sister one moment to laughing the next?”  
Merlin straightens, that usual air of defiance about him. “How is it that you can go from burning innocents one moment to celebrating their deaths with drinking and dancing the next?”

“Sorcery is evil,” Arthur answers.

I laugh. “Pretty sure conjuring flowers on a daily basis isn’t evil, Princess.”

Merlin slaps my arm. “Don’t tell him about that,” he hisses.

“Can’t have him thinking that you’re a bad person, Merlin.”

“I don’t think it. I know it.”

Merlin flinches.

Arthur doesn’t seem to care. “Or did you completely miss the man who just stared down Morgana and threatened her life so easily?”

I scoff. “One would think that a royal knew what feigning looked like. Merlin was obviously trying to keep Morgana frightened to stay in control. I’m sure you’re aware of how quickly she can take control of a conversation and turn it against you.”

“You mean when Merlin admitted that he lost all faith in me and my destiny?”

Merlin waves his hand and a bubble the size of a head appears between the three of us. It shows a very familiar scene in the woods.

_Merlin kicks at the ground. “I haven’t left Arthur, my destiny, just Arthur, the man. It’s not like constantly being by his side has done anything to help magic’s case. And it’s a lot easier to protect his royal backside when I don’t have to worry about him catching me doing it.”_

Arthur grips his sword tighter at the display of magic.

“What was that?”

Merlin rolls his now blue eyes. “A memory, Arthur. Would’ve figured that to be obvious even to you.”

“How? You didn’t mutter any spells.”

The warlock shrugs. “Wouldn’t know the words to it. I just knew what I wanted to show you and my magic made it happen.”

“That’s…”

“Dangerous? Unpredictable? Terrifying? How about all of those? And not to you, no, to me. Because imagine having all this power, Arthur, and not knowing what to do with it. If I never saw a magic book or learned about my destiny to save your life, I would’ve ended up worse than Morgana. If my mother and Gaius hadn’t warned me against instinctual magic, I just might’ve destroyed the world. If I truly turned against Camelot, you’d be helpless to stop me. I am boundless magic bounded into a body. An impossible necessity for balance. Imagine all that magic that burned in the Great Purge, all those witches, warlocks, sorcerers, high priestesses, dragons, dragonlords, and magical creatures, went into one person. That is me. I am magic. I am dangerous. I am powerful. I’m on your side.”

“And if you do turn against me? If you decide I’m not good enough for destiny? If I try to strike you down?”

“If it meant that nobody else would be hurt for their magic, I would gladly die. I’ve tried sacrificing myself countless times, resolved but hoping for one last shot at destiny. But for that cause, for all of magic’s sake, I would die without flinching.”

I move between the two of them. “But that’s not going to happen, is it, Princess? You’re not going to ask Merlin to prove his trust in you by asking for that.”

Arthur scoffs. “His trust in me? He told me about his magic by admitting to releasing a slaughter on my kingdom, knocking me out with his magic, and running away to another kingdom. Then, he has the gall to get Princess Mithian to invite me to the same bloody castle he’s hiding in.”

Merlin shrugs. “Didn’t realise we’d get Morgana so soon. She found us quickly and fell for the stupidest of traps.”

“Why didn’t you just kill her then? Why draw this out? Why wait for me?”

“Needed the right weapon. Killing a High Priestess, or anyone with that much magic, is a lot harder than a little stabbing or some magical blast.”

“Even with the magic suppressing cuffs?”

“Those are keeping her magic contained to her body. Any magic she tries to draw from around her can’t be added and any magic she’s got can’t be released. It’s like there’s a block in a river and the water can’t flow past it, but it doesn’t suddenly disappear. So, all the magic her body can hold is set on protecting her right now. Sure, that’s being slightly drained by fighting the sleeping spell, but it’s still enough to give her immortality without the right weapon.”

“With those cuffs on, she’s normal?”

“Still an intelligent, manipulative, Pendragon.” Merlin wears his Arthur taunting grin. “So normal for you.”

“Now, now, Merlin, no need to be so mean. Princess doesn’t have the intelligence to be manipulative.”

Arthur doesn’t react. He just stares between his sleeping sister and Merlin blankly.

“Normal,” he mutters.

You have to be kidding me!

I shove Merlin behind me. “Don’t even think about it, Arthur! Merlin’s magic is as much a part of him as wielding a sword is me or you, more even,”

Merlin grips the back of my tunic. “You want to take away my magic?” he asks, more frightened than I’ve ever heard him.

Arthur steps forward, sword lowered. “Imagine that, Merlin. You wouldn’t have to be scared of what you’re capable of anymore. You could come back to Camelot, to your home, and we could just put this all behind us. You’d be free.”

“I might as well die!” Merlin stands apart from me, his eyes burning gold. “If I can’t use my magic, I might as well be dead! How would you like it if someone told you that you’d be free of all duty if only you let them destroy Camelot?”

Arthur scoffs. “That’s not the same.”

“It’s the same to me. My magic is my life, Arthur. It’s who I am. If you take that away, then I’m nothing.”

“You’re being unreasonable.”

“He bloody well is not!  You can’t just waltz in here and ask Merlin to just stop being himself. You can’t suggest he wear something that would rob him of what makes him special. You can’t act like he’s being unreasonable when you’re saying things can just go back to normal, like you weren’t the one who left for dead in the first place! Or did you forget, _sire_ , about how he saved your Queen from your own sister’s enchantments right before you abandoned him?”

Merlin steps towards Arthur, fists clenched and eyes still molten gold. Arthur points his sword at the warlock. Merlin doesn’t flinch.

“If word got out that the Once and Future King chose to bound Emrys’s magic, I would not be able to save you from the backlash.” He tilts his head to the side, no doubt listening to Mordred. “Even the druids would forsake their peaceful way of life to end your reign, something they didn’t even do when Uther started the Purge.”

“You dare threaten me?”

“I dare tell you the truth.” Merlin steps against the tip of Arthur’s sword, cutting into his tunic. “As I always have.”

Arthur tosses his sword aside. It clatters into Morgana’s cell. He lurches toward Merlin suddenly and grabs him by the throat. I let out a yell and rush forward. Merlin holds his hand up in warning, eyes refusing to let the gold fade.

“I trust you, Arthur,” he croaks. “Will you do the same?”

“He left you!” I yell. “He wants to bound your magic! How can you trust him?”

“One of us has to trust the other first.”

Arthur’s hand violently shakes. “And how am I meant to trust someone with magic?”

“You literally have his life in your hands!” I shout, doing everything to stop myself from tearing him away from Merlin. “How can you not trust in that?”

Arthur looks between Merlin and me, eyes pleading. “Just one day. Let me bound his magic for just one day.”

“If you dare try, I will kill you,” I growl. “Guinevere can take the bloody crown for all I care. You hurt that man who has given you _everything_ and I will end you.”

“Then so be it.”

Merlin whimpers at the betrayal. Arthur pulls out cuffs with his other hand, and before I can reach them, slaps them on Merlin’s wrists.

A blast of magic throws me into the wall. I scramble to my feet and rush to Merlin’s side. His skin is impossibly pale, his eyes a blue that is sapped of any gold. He grabs my wrist before I can go after Arthur.

“Morgana,” he croaks. “Check on-.”

“Too late for that, Emrys,” the witch says, standing in her blasted open cell. “Thank you for the sword, brother. It did wonders cutting through those pesky cuffs.”

I look to Arthur and see the pure dread in his eyes, as he stands between us and his sister. Guess killing him is going to have to wait.

“Princess! Here!”

I toss him my sword. Arthur easily catches it and points it at Morgana.

She laughs. “Oh, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. Don’t you see? You just blocked Emrys from accessing his magic. Not only do you have no hope of defeating me without his help, you also get to watch him slowly die. You did just cut him off from his life source, after all.”

Merlin bats me away and stumbles to a hunched stand. “We will defeat you, Morgana,” he croaks. “We will always-.” He breaks off into a coughing fit.

Morgana grins, that mad twisted grin. “Oh, this is going to be an absolute delight.”

Her eyes turn gold. Arthur runs forward. The ceiling cracks from raw magic power.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, at least they’re back to fighting on the same side again, for this particular battle, because Arthur’s a great prat who doesn’t understand enough about magic.


	14. Containment

**MORDRED**

I obey Arthur’s orders. Until he bounds Emrys’s magic. The blast knocks me off-balance. I scramble to my feet and sprint down the stairs, sword drawn and eyes gold. Emrys breaks off into a coughing fit when I arrive. Morgana is unrestrained. Arthur raises his, no, Gwaine’s sword against her. The former knight tries to steady Merlin, as Morgana’s eyes turn a molten gold. No. Emrys can’t do a thing. Arthur will die. She’ll kill them.

I won’t let it end like this!

Raw magic erupts from my hand and throws Morgana into the metal bars of her cell. Merlin lets out a laugh, turning to me with a wide grin.

“Knew you’d come,” Merlin croaks.

Arthur stares at me with horror, his eyes no doubt watching the gold fade from mine.

“You have magic,” Arthur says.

I scowl and march past him. “I will not explain myself to the man who would dare bound Emrys’s magic.”

“I thought you said you were done being loyal to him over me.”

“And I thought you were smarter than to allow Morgana to get loose,” I retort, pointing my sword at the witch.

“Then you don’t know Arthur,” Merlin grumbles, arm on Gwaine’s shoulder and so obviously using the former knight to keep himself standing.

Gwaine smiles, tone biting. “Only Princess would carelessly toss his weapon to the enemy.”

Morgana smirks at that, back on her feet.

“How was I meant to know my sword would cut through the cuffs?” Arthur shouts.

Merlin scowls. “YOU FOUND IT IN A BLOODY ROCK, YOU GREAT PRAT! IT’S OBVIOUSLY MAGICAL!”

“You led me to a magic sword?”

“Well, I didn’t forge it in a dragon’s breath to make it look pretty!”

Morgana stumbles over a spell. “You did what to that sword?”

Merlin’s grin turns into a grimace as the cuffs start glowing in response to his magic instinctually trying to escape.

“Told you I was just waiting for the right weapon to arrive,” he says.

“You sent an invitation out for my sword?” Arthur questions, managing to sound quite offended for someone dodging magic attacks.

If I wasn’t throwing my own blasts of raw power at Morgana, he would’ve been hit by now.

“Technically it’s my sword. I just happen to lend it to you on a semi-permanent basis. I had Kilgharrah breathe fire on it, I used it take down an immortal army, and I’m the one who cleans the thing. You just knight people with it and occasionally use it for the stabby thing.”

“The stabby thing? You’re calling fighting the stabby thing?”

“Little hard to concentrate when I’m literally dying thanks to your stupidity, Arthur.”

“Well, maybe if you’d just told me about your bloody magic instead knocking me out with it and fleeing Camelot with Gwaine of all people, we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“No, you’d be too busy choosing between executing me or banishing me. You would’ve left me again!”

“Would you two shut up for five minutes?” I yell, slicing through Morgana’s fireball with my sword.

Morgana laughs and flings me at a stone wall. I lose grip on my sword and groan while struggling to my feet.

She smiles, wide, twisted, and manic, nothing like the Lady of Camelot from so many years ago. “Those two will never stop bickering. If they truly are Emrys and the Once and Future King, then you have no hope. Arthur’s too much like his father. He’d never work with a warlock.”

“Except maybe to distract you from me,” Gwaine says, Excalibur in hand. “This’ll kill her, right?” he asks.

Merlin nods. “Then you can get rid of these blasted cuffs.”

“Nah, Princess will do that. Ain’t that right, your majesty?”

Arthur glances at Merlin. Emrys is doing everything to stay standing, his skin paler than the moon, and glistening with sweat.

The King nods. He and Gwaine toss their swords at each other, swapping back. I throw up a weak shield to block Morgana’s attack. Arthur and Gwaine begin to circle her, each stepping forward to attack and sliding out of the way of her attacks with a natural ease that comes from years of training together. I step forward to join them. A hand rests lightly on my shoulder and holds me back. Emrys meets my eyes and starts muttering spells.

“It won’t work, Emrys!” Morgana mocks. “Without your magic, you’re useless. Soon your body will fail. It’s become too reliant on magic.”

Yet I feel the thrum of power from his spells, from the way the words slide together, from the instinctual push of magic behind it, even if Merlin can’t access his. He stares at me, determined, imploring. Oh. His voice is a bare whisper. Morgana can’t hear them. Only I’m meant to. He’s not trying to use magic. He’s sharing knowledge, ancient spells, powerful magic. He trusts me. I nod and turn to Morgana.

I repeat Merlin’s spell, word for word. My magic rises from every part of my body, flowing through my veins, past my heart and out to my outstretched hand. Tendrils of pure gold magic shoot out of my hand and encircle Morgana. She chokes back a scream and stares at me with the same frightened eyes she had when she first learnt about her magic. The tendrils restrain her arms to her body. They snake up to her throat and flicker. I fight back the drain and continue the spell.

Merlin grips me tighter, somehow keeping us both up, despite looking like death.

“What are you doing to me?” Morgana screeches.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Merlin asks. “We’re beating you, milady.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Oh, right. You’re illegitimate like me. You’ve got no status, not really, no claim, nothing. Just a dead half-sister who used you and left you with all this power, all this rage, and a foolish, foolish quest to try and kill my King, my destiny.”

Arthur and Gwaine take the opportunity to move in. Morgana shouts wordlessly at Gwaine, throwing him back, and taking his sword. Her magic lashes out against mine. The tendrils disappear. I crumple to the ground. Emrys smiles weakly at me, unmistakable pride in his eyes, before he turns a glare on Morgana.

“Even without my magic, I will always be your doom, Morgana. Give up now and I’ll make it quick.”

Arthur swings Excalibur at the witch. She blocks him with Gwaine’s sword and knocks him back.

“I haven’t forgotten my training, brother,” she spits.

He parries her attack and goes to strike. Morgana spins out of the way and knocks Excalibur out of his grip. Arthur slides to the ground and grabs it. Morgana’s eyes burn gold and she mutters an all too familiar spell. I try to push myself to my feet, but my knees give out. Gwaine makes a similar attempt, blood running down his face from his hairline. The fireball forms in Morgana’s hand. She throws it at Arthur.

It hits.

But not her intended target. Merlin screams as the magic burns his back. He falls forward, Arthur catching him with wide eyes.

“Why would you do that for, you idiot?” he shouts.

“Not my first magical fireball,” Merlin retorts, whimpering as his nose starts bleeding from the cuffs.

Morgana laughs. “Oh, Emrys, Emrys, Emrys. Tales of your loyalty have been greatly underexaggerated. Only you would remain loyal to the man who thoughtlessly abandons you, who bounds your magic without hesitation, and who will be the death of you. I may be the final strike, but remember that it was Arthur that lead you here. Make that your last thought, Emrys. Know how much he hates you. The man who you would do anything for, the man you have sacrificed everything for, the man you turned your back on magic for, know how much he wants you dead.”

Gwaine runs at her in a rage. Morgana barely turns and mutters a sleeping spell. I dive to catch him and stop him from falling on his face. Morgana just laughs again.

“And you, Mordred. Oh, how foolish you were to expose your magic. Have you learned nothing in all those years of everyone across Albion rejecting you for your power, for your fate?”

“My fate hasn’t been foretold. I make my own choices.”

She crouches in front of me, smile sickly sweet. “You poor thing. He hasn’t told you yet, has he? Emrys knows your fate. I dare say he’s known as long as he’s known what I’d become. I’ve only found out recently. All that time searching in Ismere for Arthur’s bane, and now, now I know who’s destined to betray him. Arthur Pendragon will fall in Camlann at the blade of Mordred, the druid knight.”

“You’re lying!” I shout.

“Am I? Then answer me this, Mordred. What would it take? What would it take for you to turn your blade against your king? What would he have to do? Is bounding Emrys’s magic not enough? Would he have to reject yours? Perhaps kill someone you love? Do you really think you’re so _good_ as to never kill him? Do you truly have that much faith? Do you never have the urge to just get rid of him once and for all?”

“I will never become like you.”

Morgana scoffs. “You think yourself stronger than fate?”

“Funny, hearing that come from you,” I retort.

Merlin chuckles. “I was just about to say the same thing.” His eyes blaze gold, as he grips Excalibur. “You really shouldn’t have let me fall near my sword.”

He rests the blade against Morgana’s neck. She blindly strikes at him with her sword. Arthur wrenches it out of her grip. He places it on the other side of his sister’s neck.

“I really wouldn’t,” Arthur warns, voice dangerously low.

“Are you going to kill me, then?” she spits. “Like an execution? Where’s the honour in that?”

“You have killed indiscriminately in your rage against Camelot, Morgana Pendragon,” Arthur says. “You claim to fight for your own kind, yet all you’ve done is drive everyone else to fear magic even more. You’re guilty for assassination, regicide, mass slaughter, taking control of Camelot twice, and that’s only the start of it. Since you turned on Camelot, you have been the largest cause of death after the Great Purge. I’m ashamed to be your brother, not because of the magic you had no choice in, but what you chose to do with it.”

Morgana scoffs. “Yet you’ll still turn against Merlin and Mordred after this. You’ll still banish them in lieu of execution. You’ll still build pyres and slaughter our kind.”

“I don’t know what I’ll do. Maybe if everyone had been a little more honest from the start, we could’ve all worked it out together. But now, now all I know is that you won’t be around to see what happens next.”

Morgana’s eyes turn gold. She lets out a pure magic blast. The King slams into the wall. Merlin crumples to the ground. I shield Gwaine from the blast and my vision blurs. Morgana twists around and looms over Merlin’s spasming body as he struggles to at least kneel.

“The damage is already done, isn’t it, Emrys? Your magic can’t heal you and fight me.”

He grimaces. “For once, you’re actually right, Morgana. But don’t think for a second that I’m defenceless without it.”     

He shoves Excalibur into her stomach. Morgana gasps. Emrys grips her shoulder and pulls the blade out, tossing it aside. He moves to cradle her as the hatred and rage fades from her expression.

“I’m sorry, Morgana,” he says.

She scoffs. “We were always coming here, Emrys.”

“No, I was blinded by destiny. I could’ve done so many things differently.” He wipes his eyes with his sleeve. “I’m sorry I didn’t try hard enough. I’m sorry I refused to see your light. I’m sorry I didn’t fight for you.” Merlin looks me in the eye. “I won’t let fate blind me to truth again.”

“I hate you, Emrys,” she whispers. “I hate you.”

He just nods. “And I forgive you.”

She lunges for his throat. “I hate you.” Her grip goes slack.

“I’m sorry. I forgive you.”

Merlin looks up, tears in his golden eyes. He mutters a spell similar to the one he told me. Magic tendrils erupt from Morgana and spread across the room, encircling Arthur, Gwaine and me. These tendrils heal instead of restraining. My exhaustion fades. Gwaine’s head wound knits back together and he starts stirring. Arthur stumbles to his feet, flinching at the magic touching him, even as his many bruises start fading. Merlin merely meets Arthur’s confused stare with a weak smile. The tendrils burst into magical sparks.

And Emrys passes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. Merlin just tapped into Morgana’s remaining magic to heal everyone, but that meant his own magic couldn’t continue healing him. Merlin POV next chapter who wakes up to a very angry Mithian.


	15. Isolation

**MERLIN**

My head hurts. And my back. Mainly my back. I forgot how much fireballs hurt, especially the High Priestess kind. There’s this loud ringing sound in my ear. No, wait. That’s yelling. Is that Princess Mithian? She looks like a white blur. Who’s she yelling at?

“Arthur Pendragon, you are an arrogant fool who couldn’t follow a simple instruction if your life depended on it!”

“You don’t understand. He-.”

“Don’t turn this on Merlin! You were the one who bound his magic. You were the one who allowed Morgana near your sword. You were the one who promised to just talk and instead got lost in your blind fury yet again.”

“So you just expect me to suddenly accept that my manservant of ten years has magic.”

“I expected you not to kill your best friend of ten years.”

“I’m not dead yet,” I croak. “You’re going to have to try a little harder to get rid of me, your majesties.”

A red blob drops to the ground in front of me, bright orbs of blue sweeping over my face, but never quite meeting my eyes.

“You certainly look like death.”

“No thanks to you.”

“How was I meant to know the cuffs would-.”

“I told you not to. Gwaine told you not to. For once in your life, you could’ve listened. But no, King Arthur doesn’t listen to reason and someone else had to pay the price. No different than usual.” I push away from Arthur and sit up. “You can go home now, sire. Morgana’s dead. There’s no reason for you to stick around.”

“You’ll be coming back with me.”

I let my eyes flash gold and wince at the effort. Arthur flinches.

“And why on Earth would I do that? I won’t let you even get close with those cuffs again, Arthur. Try it and I’ll let you feel just how much a fireball hurts.”

“Then why’d you do it?” he shouts. “Why take the hit for me? You obviously hate me, but you jumped in the way of her attack. Why? Is it because of this destiny nonsense? Do you just care about what you can get out of it?”

“What I can get out of it? I’ve already lost so much thanks to destiny, Arthur. It’s never been about what I could get out of it. I used to tell everyone that it would get better, that magic wouldn’t always be outlawed, but I was wrong. You can’t even look me in the eye anymore. You can’t help flinching when I use just a little magic. You’re never going to change that blasted law and we both know it. So, no. I didn’t save your life because of destiny. I saved your life because it was the right thing to do. Surely even you could understand that.”

I stumble to my feet and immediately lurch forward. Arthur catches me. I glare at him. He drops me.

“That’s it,” Princess Mithian says. She storms forward, pulls me up and shoves me into Arthur’s arms. “Follow me. It’s time for you to hold up your end of the deal, Arthur.”

Arthur and I glare at each other, even as I have to lean on him to follow.

“What deal?” I ask.

“She means to have us eat with the horses,” Arthur grumbles.

I stop. “She what?”

Arthur rolls his eyes and drags me along. “Princess Mithian wanted us to have a calm discussion about recent developments, but someone had to be dramatic and turn it into a fight.”

“I’m being dramatic? I almost die for you for the hundredth time and I’m the one being dramatic?” I shake my head. “We’ll see how long you last before you need my help with the next sorcerer you manage to cross.”

“Look in the mirror. You’ll find him.”

“I’m not about to attack Camelot, you great prat. Even if using my magic didn’t burn right now, I still never would. I’ve spent way too much time protecting you and that kingdom to waste it all just because I don’t happen to live there anymore.”

Arthur scoffs. “Nothing about the lives it would cost?”

“I shouldn’t have to mention that because it should be obvious! Having magic doesn’t make me a different person, even if you’re too bigoted to see that.”

“I’m not bigoted.”

“You think you’re better than magic-users because you fear them. You only fear magic because you don’t understand it and can’t control it. You’re bigoted, Arthur. You used to be the same way towards anyone who wasn’t a noble or royalty.”

Mithian stops outside my guest chamber. “And that’s why you, Merlin, are the best man for fixing this mess.” She gestures for us to enter. We do. “I’ll have dinner sent up in an hour. If you haven’t made up by then, you’ll be locked in until morning.”

“Locked in?” Arthur questions.

Mithian smiles and closes the door, loudly barring it from the other side. “Help Merlin with his injury while you’re at it!” she calls, before walking away.

Arthur barges against the door and yells after Mithian. I beeline for my medical supplies. I’ve got some burn salve and bandages for my back somewhere in here. I shrug off my tunic and flinch as air hits the burn. Just work through the pain. I should disinfect the wound first. The dungeons aren’t exactly sanitary. I rub an ointment on my back and let out a hiss of pain.

Arthur stops yelling. I glance over my shoulder. He’s giving me the same look he gave me after downing Gaius’s spirit-seeing potion.

“What?” I ask, covering my lower back in ointment.

“These are your chambers.”

“Yeah. Royalty in Nemeth are better at rewarding people who save their lives than you lot in Camelot. One made me manservant to a prat, and the other gave me some nice chambers next to Gwaine’s.”

“When did you save their lives?”

“Earlier this year. Remember that earthquake that saved everyone?"

Arthur looks at me in disbelief. “You caused an earthquake?”

“I _am_ the most powerful sorcerer to ever live. I’m sure Mordred filled you in.”

“He said you wouldn’t like that.”

“I don’t, but if it got you to come here and bring Excalibur, well, I’m not exactly complaining. Keeping up that sleeping spell on Morgana was starting to be a headache.”

“And that’s the only reason you wanted me here?”

“You’ve got a kingdom to rule, Arthur. I’m not exactly in a position to call you and expect you to come running for just anything. Morgana was a threat to the five kingdoms. I’m wasn’t about to forge another a sword in a dragon’s breath to kill her. Doing it the first time was dangerous enough. If that sword ever fell in the wrong person’s hands… I know you won’t abuse its power.”

I switch to the burn salve. Arthur huffs and storms across my chambers. He holds out his hand.

“Give me that.”

“Why?”

“So I can apply it, you idiot. I’m not about to stand here and watch you do it so inefficiently.”

I pass him the salve. “Thank you.”

Arthur startles at that, like I haven’t been able to see through his rubbish excuses before. He starts applying the salve.

“What’d you even mean when you said it wasn’t your first fireball?” he asks.

“Nimueh. I went to her after you were bitten by the Questing Beast. I tried trading my life for yours, but when I got back to Camelot, it was my mother who was paying the price. Gaius decided to take my place without telling me. I went after him, thought he was already dead and then I fought her. She threw a fireball at my chest. I summoned a storm, called lightning down, and struck her, trading her life for Gaius’s and balancing the scales of life and death.”

“You really have been secretly saving us all for years.”

I shrug and immediately wince. Arthur hits the back of my head.

“Idiot,” he mutters.

“At least I’m not a prat.”

Arthur doesn’t retort, just keeps applying the burn salve.

He sighs. “What happened to us, Merlin? Back with fighting against Morgana, we fell into step again. It felt right, magic and sword together. And trust me; I know how strange that sounds. But now it’s like one wrong word will send us spiralling into a yelling match again, and not the good kind like we used to have.”

“We betrayed each other,” I answer simply. “Where’d Gwaine and Mordred go?”

Arthur presses a little harder with the salve at my topic change but doesn’t mention it.

“I imagine they’re dining with Princess Mithian and her father. Gwaine was rather reluctant to leave your side while unconscious, but the Princess convinced him that you were in good hands. He seems more … protective of you than I remember.”

“He’s the only one who would give up his life without hesitation for my sake.”

“There are plenty of people who would sacrifice themselves-.”

“That’s not what I meant. I’ve had so many people die for me, Arthur. This is different. This is choosing me over everyone else, even his own duty. Not even my mother would do such a thing, else she’d have moved to Camelot years ago. And don’t mention Gaius. He may love me like I’m his son, but he’s not here, is he? He knows I’ve no intention of returning to Camelot, but he didn’t take the opportunity to see me because his duty’s more important. I know that, and it’s fine. Gwaine though, he didn’t even hesitate. He didn’t hesitate when I asked him for help when you got yourself into that Perilous Lands mess with a cursed bracelet from Morgana. He didn’t hesitate when I told him about my magic. And he didn’t hesitate this time either.”

Arthur puts the burn salve down. I pass him the bandages.

“And what of this destiny of Mordred’s that Morgana mentioned?”

“It doesn’t concern you.”

“He’s destined to kill me.”

“Do you really think Mordred capable? If anyone’s likely to kill you, it’s Gwaine. I’m surprised he hasn’t followed through on his threat yet.”

Arthur pauses. “Mordred has magic too.”

“He’s had it since he was a child.”

“You knew?”

“We first spoke through mind-speech. Of course, I knew.”

“And you think I can trust him?”

“You need to decide for yourself whether you accept his magic. As for the destiny part, I’ve been trying to get him killed for years believing he’d be your killer. Now though, I know it’s about as likely as Gwaine giving up mead. There’s a possibility, but it would be much more difficult to lose his trust than it would be to keep it.”

It’s odd to still be giving Arthur advice like this, but I’m not sure he realises how naturally he seeks it. That’s either going to make this a lot easier or a lot harder. Guess that depends on how long it takes him to realise that I still have no intention of returning to Camelot no matter how this conversation goes.

Arthur sighs. “When you said using magic burned, what’d you mean?”

“Exactly that. It’s like running when you haven’t had a drop of water in days. Even after you’ve gotten full access to water again, the burn’s still there. The damage doesn’t just disappear.”

“Damage?”

“Yes, Arthur, damage. You cut me off from my life source. What’d you expect to happen?”

“I just wanted you to be normal. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

I flinch away from him and take the bandages. “Sorry I couldn’t be normal enough for you,” I spit.

Arthur takes the bandages back and continues seeing to my back. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You did.”

“No, I just… I thought it’d be an easy fix. I wanted it to be something we could put behind us and not think about. Because this isn’t just about you having magic, Merlin. If it was, I would’ve followed you to Nemeth immediately and gotten my answers. It’s much bigger than that, bigger than either of us. I’m the King of a place where magic is illegal, where possessing it is one of the highest crimes. I can’t just change that for you, even if I wanted to.”

“Which you don’t.”

“I don’t know! Okay? I don’t know. You’ve done terrible things, Merlin. You admitted as much. I need answers. I need to know that I can trust you. I want to trust you, but I can’t, not as your King nor your friend.”

I scoff. “You really think we’re still friends?”

“I think you jumped in front of a fireball for me without a second thought and without your magic to protect you.”

“I’d have done it for anyone.”

“Perhaps, but I’ve yet to see you instinctually do such a thing.”

“Guess that’s what happens when you devote ten years of your life to keeping a person alive. It becomes a habit.”

Arthur fastens the bandage. “Who are you trying to convince, Merlin? Me or you?”

I face him and scowl.

“You left me there. You abandoned me. You forgot about me. You took me for granted. You bound my magic. And now, now you’re trying to say that we’re friends? You just expect me to forgive and forget?”

“No, Merlin. I don’t expect you to forgive nor forget. I don’t want to move on without acknowledging what’s happened. I just… I just want my best friend back, however I can take him. If that’s with magic, then so be it. There’ll be a long process to go with it, but you will be welcome back in Camelot. You defeated Morgana, for goodness sake. Even if I can’t legalise magic, I’m sure I can pardon you.”

“I don’t want that.”

Arthur steps away from me. “You don’t want to come back to Camelot?”

“I don’t want to be the only one pardoned. I don’t want to make the Once and Future King a hypocrite who only accepts magic when it directly benefits him. Do you have any idea what kind of message that would send?”

“Then what do you want? How can I make this right?”

“Just go back to Camelot and forget about me, Arthur. Your life would be so much easier.”

“I don’t want to leave you again! I refuse it. Just tell me what you need.”

I step forward. “Make magic legal. Until then, I won’t step one foot into Camelot. If you need my help or need me to tell you something, then so be it. We can talk about it here, in Nemeth. Otherwise, I want nothing to do with you, Arthur Pendragon. For once, the good of my people, the ones who have been relying on me since before either of us were even born, is more important than our bond. It has to be. I’m sure that’s something a King like you would understand.”

Arthur scoffs. “You think you’re a King then?”

“I’m the closest thing the druids and magical community have to one. It’s about time I took responsibility. With Morgana gone, there’ll be a power gap. Someone has to fill it. Best for Albion if that someone didn’t want to wage war on every kingdom prejudiced against magic.”

“And what do you want?”

I shrug. “That’s never been an option. No point in making it one now.”

“You could do the same thing from Camelot as my Court Sorcerer.”

“Need magic to be legal first, Arthur. Plus, you haven’t heard half the things I’ve done yet. It’s hardly the best idea to give a position in court to someone you can’t trust.”

He throws his hands in the air. “I can’t just do that so simply, Merlin. It’ll take time. It could take months, even a year.”

“I know.”

“And you’re okay with that? You’re okay with not coming home for that long?”

I straighten to my full height, just a tad taller than Arthur. “I will not call a place home that’s laws declare me a monster for how I was born. Until Camelot’s laws are changed, it could never be my home.”

“And if I can’t change the laws? If I decide that what you’ve done isn’t justification enough?”

“We will not be enemies, Arthur. I won’t allow any magic attacks on Camelot or any other kingdom unless another purge occurs. In that case, I won’t let any innocents die. The mass should never be punished for the actions of a few. But to that few,” I let my eyes burn gold. “I will be without mercy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mithian would have actually made them eat dinner in the stables if Merlin wasn't injured.


	16. Decision

**ARTHUR**

Gwaine opens Merlin’s door, shoves past me and grabs Merlin’s shoulders. He gives the warlock a once over and sags in relief.

“No more fireballs,” he says.

Merlin grins. “No more fireballs.”

Gwaine spins him around and yanks up his tunic, checking over the bandages. He looks at me for the first time and glares.

“Nice to see you bothered to help.”

“Mithian wouldn’t have let us out otherwise. Plus, watching the idiot trying to do it himself was just an embarrassment.”

Merlin grips Gwaine’s wrist. “Don’t mind him. The prat’s still annoyed at the not going back to Camelot ‘til magic’s legal thing.”

“Shouldn’t be banned in the first place,” Gwaine mutters, letting go of Merlin’s tunic.

“My father-.”

“Was a liar,” Merlin spits, turning to face me.

Gwaine slings an arm around Merlin’s shoulder. “Uther embodied everything I hated about nobles. Remember when we all met? I had to save Merlin’s life from those two imposter knights, then got banished for it.”

Merlin smiles. “I could’ve handled it myself.”

“And got yourself executed for it,” Gwaine points out. “If you never needed my help, why come get me when Princess went off to the Perilous Lands?”

“Thought it’d be suspicious if I got there unaided. Plus, it was a good excuse to spend time with my favourite knight.”

“Wasn’t even a knight then.”

“You were to me.”

“Thought Lancelot was your favourite.”

“Lancelot may have known about my magic, but he also chose to leave Camelot when he could’ve stayed. He was so worried about getting in the way of Gwen and Arthur, that he didn’t even consider how much I needed a friend.”  Merlin quirks his head to the side. “Arthur, Mordred wants to know whether you’ll be punishing him for his magic.”

I sigh. “Where is he?”

“In Gwaine’s chambers. They’re the ones left of mine.”

“I’ll talk to you two later then.”

Merlin nods. Gwaine doesn’t even acknowledge me. I stop at the door.

“What happened to killing me?” I ask.

Gwaine laughs bitterly. “Merlin’s dedicated ten years of his life keeping you alive. I’m not about to make that pointless just because I’d rather end the Pendragon bloodline.”

“I didn’t know it would hurt him.”

“You knew it would take away his magic. That’s knowing it’d hurt him, regardless of it almost killing him too.”

I look back, but this time neither of them will meet my eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

Merlin ducks his head. “I know.” He looks up, eyes gold. I flinch. “So am I.”

I leave two of my closest friends, former friends now, and knock on the door to the adjacent chambers. Mordred opens the door immediately and steps aside. I stride in and sit at the table. Mordred closes the door and sits opposite. It’s only now that I notice the bright array of flowers seeming to grow from the very walls and bed frame. I raise an eyebrow.

“I thought this was Gwaine’s room.”

Mordred refuses to meet my eyes. “It’s my understanding that he stopped getting Merlin to remove them after the warlock kept conjuring them in both their chambers in his sleep.”

I don’t have a response for that. Mordred looks more worried than he did when fighting off Morgana. I pointedly grab my sword and toss it across the room. Mordred relaxes a little.

“Magic isn’t illegal here,” I point out.

“I was a Knight of Camelot. Possessing magic is treason.”

“You’re still a knight.”

Mordred looks at me, eyes wide. “I am?”

“Well, have you ever used your magic for evil?”

“No, sire.”

“Do you have any intention to do so?”

“No, sire.”

“Does your fealty to me still stand?”

“Yes, sire.”

“Then you’re still a Knight of Camelot.”

Mordred grins, but it quickly fades. “And my magic, sire?”

“I can’t permit you to use it within Camelot’s borders. I still have to ask Merlin some questions before I decide whether trying to legalise magic is worth it, but I will no longer punish those who had no choice in possessing magic.”

“Thank you.”

“You saved our lives today, Mordred. You showed true courage in risking your knighthood without hesitation.”

Mordred ducks his head. “It’s what you or Emrys would have done.”

“About the prophecy…”

Mordred stiffens. “The one of Emrys and the Once and Future King or the other one?”

“Both, I suppose. I don’t believe in either. We make our own choices in life, Mordred. Destiny and fate may be one option, but I’ve always believed that we choose our own path, our own future. It would be an honour to be the King who unites Albion, but I hardly think that’ll happen regardless of my actions. In fact, saying so would undermine my efforts, my sacrifices, and my achievements thus far. Our destiny isn’t predetermined. If we choose to fight it, then we will win. Merlin might have been fighting yours by treating you like you would one day kill me, but he should’ve told you and let you make your own path.” I sigh. “He should’ve told all of us a lot of things.”

Mordred locks eyes on me, his gaze intense. “I swear on my magic that I will not fulfil my destiny.”

I nod. “Then perhaps you could aid me in mine instead. I’ll need all the support in court I can get if I’m going to remove those laws. First though, I think we both deserve some answers from Merlin.”

Mordred nods and quirks his head to the side. He clears his throat. “I think we should wait until morning. Emrys did use quite a bit of magic when he should’ve been recovering.”

“He’s fallen asleep, hasn’t he?”

“Him and Gwaine. Apparently if I wake him up with mind-speech one more time, he’ll leave me to Princess Mithian’s wrath.”

I nod. “Best let them sleep then.”

“Of course, sire.”

Once they wake up though, we will all be having a very long talk. I can’t say that I’m just going to accept magic. I’m meant to be the courageous King of Camelot, yet I still flinch at Merlin’s eyes changing colour. This isn’t going to be an easy process, but I owe it to him, to everyone with magic, to put my prejudices aside for one conversation so I can determine what’s best for the future of Camelot. If that means admitting that Father’s rule was based on lies and tyranny, well, I’ve long past decided that my rule won’t mimic his. Accepting magic would just be another change in a long series. That said, if magic isn’t the innocent tool they claim it is, I won’t start another purge, but I can’t welcome something that would ultimately harm my people. They come first, even if costs me my best friend.

Merlin has to put his people first, and I have to prioritise mine. For once, I’m sure he’ll understand no matter how our next conversation goes. Guess he’s no idiot after all. I’m still not sure I buy that whole greatest sorcerer to ever live nonsense. Next thing they’ll be telling me that Merlin’s name will be remembered for all time alongside mine. Ha. As if.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Promise that'll be the last time I lie in the chapter name for this fic (mainly 'cause this is the last chapter anyway). Right, so I figured that after everything, it wouldn't really make sense for Arthur to be all 'Yes, I accept magic' without getting some proper answers. I didn't want to do the whole 'Merlin tells Arthur everything spiel' because Merlin's pretty injured after the anti-magic cuffs and just isn't up for it. I could've dragged this fic out to encompass Merlin becoming a leader in the magical community, but frankly I prefer this hopeful open-endedness. So there, I had no clue where this was going past the first 'Swefe nu' for a while at the start there, but I'm pretty happy with the end result. 
> 
> Think I'm going to stick to writing better planned fics for a bit. That said I have another unknown chapter length Merlin fic that I might tackle in a month or two (set season 4).


End file.
